


In the Mire of Midnight

by MellowMild



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22422604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowMild/pseuds/MellowMild
Summary: Inspector Raquel Murillo has been undercover for two years and is looking forward to returning to her family and a normal life once her latest operation ends. However, when one of the thieves she is working with mentions that someone he knows is planning the biggest heist in history, she fears that she will be forced to remain undercover by her superiors.And when Sergio Marquina lets his brother talk him into allowing a safe-cracker to become part of the team despite his misgivings, neither he nor anyone else involved have any inkling of the life-altering impact that decision will have on all of them.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 105
Kudos: 327





	1. Screwed

_Love has no middle term; either it destroys, or it saves. All human destiny is this dilemma. This dilemma, destruction or salvation, no fate proposes more inexorably than love. Love is life, if it is not death. Cradle; coffin, too. The same sentiment says yes and no in the human heart.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

**Chapter 1: Screwed**

_The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

_Spanish Diamond Corporation, Madrid  
_ _01:37_

_Concentrate. Listen_. Tick, tick, _slowly now_ , tick-  
 _Breathing, close by, but not yours. Ignore_. Tick, tick, click. _Yes_.  
 _Sweat. Not on your fingers. Running down your back. Discard. Still the fucking breathing. At your shoulder_.  
“Will you fucking back off, Fonollosa?” Raquel hissed, and the thief in question held up his hands and stepped back. He exchanged a glance with his accomplice that seemed to say, _women – always so touchy_ , and she gritted her teeth. Fucking chauvinistic jerks. She couldn’t wait to get this done, to come in out of the cold, not to associate with sexist criminals with delusions of grandeur on a daily basis any more. _Not that your colleagues are any less chauvinistic than these two thieves_ , a treacherous inner voice reminded her, but she suppressed it.  
 _Ignore_. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, flexing her fingers before gently taking hold of the dial once more. _Anti-clockwise, now_.  
Tick, tick, click. _Oh yes_.  
 _Clockwise_. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, _easy… Almost. You can feel it in the slight resistance of the dial. Breathe. Slowly_ … Click. _Fuck yeah_.  
She opened her eyes and exhaled, throwing a triumphant look over her shoulder as she grabbed hold of the lever, pushed down and pulled, and the safe door swung open. Raquel grinned; euphoric. It never failed, the rush of endorphins releasing into her bloodstream when she cracked a supposedly impregnable safe. _You should not be so happy that you have helped two thieves to gain access to the main safe of the Spanish Diamond Corporation_ , the inner voice reminded her, but she suppressed it once more. _Not now. Not yet_.

Andres de Fonollosa and his friend Martin shoved past her, eyes bright with anticipation, and she let them. She was filled with anticipation of another kind – not of riches waiting to be gathered, but of the forces of law and order to come down upon their heads. _What was taking so long?_ She strained her ears, but could not hear any approaching feet. _Where were they?_ Martin’s voice wrenched her attention back to her companions.  
“What the fuck?”  
She looked up to find both men staring at her. “What?”  
“It’s empty,” Andres said with an unmistakable note of accusation, his hand creeping towards the gun in his belt.  
 _Oh shit_. Her heart rate shot up and she could feel it hammering against her ribs. It took her less than a second to figure out what had happened, and then the anger came. Those _bastards_. They were going to leave her out there. She was not coming in out of the cold any time soon. They had moved the diamonds, and they were not coming to arrest the two men. And all because of a throw-away comment De Fonollosa had made the day before and picked up by the wire she had been wearing, about an acquaintance planning the biggest heist in history. If any of her superiors had been standing in front of her right then, she might just have shot them. But first things first. Andres obviously suspected some sort of double-cross, and she had to get out of this without being shot herself before she could confront her superiors. She wracked her brain for a way out. Only one came to mind: deflect. Sow dissension.

Raquel glared at Martin. “I thought you checked that the diamonds would be here,” she snapped, and Andres paused. His gaze shifted to his accomplice as Martin frowned.  
“What are you implying?”  
She looked between them as though they were idiots. “We know they remove the diamonds from time to time to showcase them. It was your job to ensure they’d be here when we came in.” The ‘you dumbass’ was implied, but remained unsaid. Then she added, trying to hammer her point home, “I needed the money, and now you have screwed me over.”  
Martin looked at his friend to find Andres regarding him suspiciously. “I _did_ check. They were only scheduled to go out on show next week.”  
Raquel shook her head and turned away, disgusted, and Andres’ eyes narrowed as he stared at Martin. His whole demeanour radiated doubt, and Raquel felt a thrill of accomplishment. She was successfully sowing discord between the two, and she watched on as Martin’s face crumpled.  
“Andres,” he said beseechingly, “you believe me, don’t you?”  
“Then why aren’t the diamonds here, Martin?” De Fonollosa asked coldly.  
Martin looked like his world was about to collapse. Interesting. Why was the opinion of the other thief so important to him? Was he in love with De Fonollosa? She filed the observation away for later use, if necessary.  
“There’s no time for this now,” Raquel said impatiently. “We need to get out of here before the cops arrive.” With that she turned on her heel and headed out the door, leaving the two men to their argument.

She only relaxed once she had slid behind the wheel of their get-away car and started the engine. She clutched the steering wheel to disguise the shaking of her hands as the adrenaline levels in her bloodstream began to come down, fighting against the helplessness threatening to overwhelm her. They had promised that this would be the last undercover operation, that as soon as it was over she could go back to leading a normal life. And now they were shifting the goalposts once more. Not for the first time, she rued the day she had caught and turned Micky Fuentes, and discovered her aptitude for cracking safes. She didn’t think she could stand the stress of another operation. It wasn’t fair – she had been undercover for two years now; she had a daughter that she almost never saw, for God’s sake-  
De Fonollosa slid in next to her. “Let’s go,” he instructed, and she looked around for Martin.  
“Where’s your friend?”  
“He’ll make his own way,” Andres said shortly, and she pulled away without another word.  
They drove in silence for a few blocks before he spoke. “I can make it up to you,” he said and she almost wished he wouldn’t continue, for she knew he was sealing her fate even more with each word he spoke. “I will persuade my acquaintance to bring you in on that big heist I told you about. Believe me, the spoils of that one will make the diamonds look like peanuts. What do you say?”  
She wanted to say no. To get out, back to her life, to Paula and her mother. To not sleep with a gun under her pillow and constantly living on the edge of fear. She wanted to say: _enough_. But instead she heard herself saying, “Well, I do have a daughter to feed.” Always the dutiful officer, doing what was required of her.  
Andres nodded, and then he laughed. “The authorities are going to shit themselves. They’ve never seen anything like it,” and a shiver of apprehension ran up her spine. They would not let her back out of this one now.

_Next day  
_ _Police safe house, Madrid  
_ It took Raquel two hours and four modes of transport to reach the safe house, to ensure that she wasn’t being followed. When she finally drew up in the driveway she sat for a moment, staring at the familiar BMW already parked there, the resentment pushing up in her chest once more. If they thought that sending her old partner to debrief her would placate her, they would have to think again. She stalked up to the front door, which swung open as soon as she reached it. Angel had obviously been watching out for her.  
“Raquel,” he smiled, but it was strained and it only confirmed what she already knew – they were about to screw her over.  
“Save it, Angel,” she snapped and slammed the door closed behind her. “What the fuck happened yesterday?” she demanded, determined to make this as difficult as possible for him. She was not in an accommodating mood.

As she stood before him, eyes flashing and hands planted on her hips, Angel was struck once again by how beautiful she was. It was not an obvious beauty that hit you over the head; but rather an understated one that snuck up on you unexpectedly. It was as though she seemed perfectly ordinary when you first saw her, and then her hair would suddenly fall over her shoulder or she would turn her head at a certain angle and you realised – she was stunning. And as she stood before him all riled up, it was particularly obvious. He was staring and her frown deepened, and he hurriedly turned his gaze away from her and towards the lounge. She followed it and did a double-take when she saw the big bald man standing in the middle of the room, smirking at her. Her gaze snapped back to her former partner. “What the hell is Intelligence doing here?”  
It was the man in question that answered. “Inspector Murillo. Why don’t you sit down, then we can discuss it?”

Raquel ignored him and kept staring at Angel, but he refused to meet her eyes. _Coward_. She had no choice but to turn her attention to the other man. He, at least, had the balls to look her in the eye as he prepared to screw her over. She moved into the lounge reluctantly. “Colonel Prieto,” she acknowledged curtly, and he smirked again at her obvious distaste, which only fuelled her anger. But that was probably his intention, and she was damned if she would give him the satisfaction. She kept her expression carefully neutral as she settled on one of the chairs. Prieto lowered himself onto the sofa and she noticed her service file lying on the coffee table between them. He saw her looking at it.  
“You have an impressive record, Raquel,” he began. “May I call you Raquel?” he asked belatedly, but then immediately ruined the courtesy by continuing without giving her a chance to answer. _Prick_. “Your undercover work in the diamond underworld in particular.” His eyes flicked back to her. “In two years you have thwarted four diamond heists, all without blowing your cover.”  
“Yes. And it would have been five if you had not held back on yesterday’s arrests,” she interjected testily.  
“Ah, but we removed the diamonds, so no harm done,” he responded, unperturbed, and her anger boiled over.  
“ _No harm_ done? Jesus. You nearly blew my cover with that stunt! De Fonollosa was ready to shoot me on the spot. If I hadn’t been able to deflect the blame onto his accomplice, I would be dead right now.” She looked at Angel, who shifted uncomfortably but did not say anything.  
“But you did deflect the blame, and now he trusts you even more.” He smiled. “We can’t let that go to waste.”  
“I don’t work for you,” she stated flatly, but he merely shrugged and pushed a piece of paper across the table.  
“Actually, Inspector, you do. As of yesterday.” His tone was smug and she had to resist the urge to slap him. She picked up the paper and glanced at it – it was a transfer order moving her over to Intelligence for something called Operation Midnight. Fuckers. Motherfucking _bastards_. She glared at Angel, who shrugged helplessly.

“You can’t do this, not without my consent,” she objected, but Prieto was unmoved. “We can if it’s a matter of national security. The Commissioner has signed it,” he pointed out needlessly and she ground her teeth in frustration.  
“National security?” she spat. “This is about those comments De Fonollosa made about the so-called biggest heist in history, isn’t it? You don’t even know what it is; how can you claim it to have an impact on national security?”  
Finally Angel spoke up. “Intelligence has additional information that shows that this heist could destabilise the country, Raquel,” he informed her, and she frowned.  
“What information?” she demanded, and he hesitated. It was Prieto that responded.  
“That’s classified.”  
She looked between the two men in disbelief. “ _Classified_? Angel,” she implored, “please tell me the Commissioner did not transfer me to these clowns without even seeing the information they claim to have?” Angel stared at his shoes and she began to laugh. “Christ. What a fucking joke.” And then she’d had enough. She stood suddenly and both men sprang to their feet and watched her warily. She pointed an accusing finger at Angel. “You know what this is about, don’t you? They want to keep me out of the way, out in the field, so that I can’t pursue the charge for abuse against my ex-husband.” She glared at Prieto, her voice rising helplessly. “The patriarchy of the Security Forces is banding together to protect one of their own. You motherfuckers.”  
Prieto glanced at Angel and she knew then that she was right. “You have not presented any evidence against Inspector Alberto Vicuna,” he said, and tears of frustration gathered in her eyes.  
“Because they have not given me a chance to do so,” she bit back. “Because they sent me undercover as soon as I laid the charges against him. And now you want to force me to stay out there, even though you know that the psychiatrists explicitly state that an officer should not stay undercover for more than two years.” She wiped angrily at a tear that threatened to escape. “Just so you don’t have to deal with one of your own, you fucking cowards.”

There was a long silence, in which the only sound was her heavy breathing as she tried to keep control of her emotions. Eventually Prieto spoke, and this time there was no false smile to accompany the words. “You will continue undercover and find out what De Fonollosa and his partner is planning, Inspector. If you refuse, you will be dismissed from the Police Force.” He glared at her. “Those are your options: take part in Operation Midnight, or find another job. Make your choice.”  
Raquel closed her eyes. He knew that she had a daughter and an ailing mother to support, and that he was not really giving her any choice at all. When she said nothing, he smiled in victory and scooped up her file.  
“Good then. Angel will be your case officer for this operation. I look forward to your reports.” With that he strode from the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him.

Angel watched as Raquel slumped back onto the chair and buried her face in her hands, her whole posture screaming defeat. He felt a stab of guilt; he had not fought for her when the Commissioner had called him in to discuss her transfer, even though he had known that it was not in her best interests to stay out in the field. There were many cautionary tales in the Police force of officers who had stayed undercover for too long – some got careless and was blown and killed, while others got so immersed in their legends that they could not adjust to normal life once they came in out of the cold, and a good portion of those ended up as drug addicts or committed suicide. And then, of course, there were a few that got turned, who became criminals themselves. He was aware of all of this, but still he did not speak up on her behalf, blinded by the realisation that she would be dependent on him for another few months, and that maybe this would give him the chance to finally win her over. Because the truth was that ever since that fling in Cercedilla eight years ago, he could not forget about her. He had married Mari Carmen once Raquel moved on to Alberto Vicuna, but his hopes had been rekindled once that had turned sour for her. He would leave his wife in a heart-beat if Raquel as much as hinted that she might be interested. But when his former partner looked up at him, eyes filled with contempt, he began to fear that he had miscalculated.  
She said, “I probably won’t be able to report any time soon; De Fonollosa said his acquaintance wanted to isolate the crew somewhere whilst they prepared for the heist. I’m not going to risk wearing a wire or a tracker until I have a better idea of the lie of the land. And for fuck’s sake keep your distance; _I’ll_ decide when it’s safe for a rendezvous, not you. If he lets me leave to visit my daughter, I’ll try to get in contact.” She rose and stalked out, not looking at him or saying goodbye, and Angel let her go without a word. He could only hope that her contempt was reserved for Colonel Prieto, but he couldn’t help but wonder: did she see him as one of the men who had screwed her over, rather than the saviour he saw himself to be?

_Two days later  
_ Sergio Marquina pondered his options as he drove to the rendezvous his brother had asked for. Andres had hinted that there was someone he wanted to bring in for the heist and since Tatiana, his brother’s fifth wife, was no longer in the picture, Sergio suspected that it was Martin. Whilst he liked his brother’s best friend well enough, the two of them together tended to be uncontrollable and often caused chaos, and Sergio could not afford that on this project. He had put too much into this; it was his life’s work, and he would be damned before he would let Andres and Martin ruin this for him. No, he would have to put his foot down and refuse to include Martin, but how he was going to do that and still keep his brother on-side he didn’t quite know. He needed Andres; he was the only man Sergio trusted to be his captain on the inside. Besides, this was for their father – he could not conceive of doing this without his big brother.

As he pulled up in the parking lot of the small park on the outskirts of Madrid, his brother’s car was already there. Andres stood beside it, chatting to someone, but to Sergio’s surprise it was not Martin. It was a woman, and Sergio huffed in exasperation. Tatiana was barely out the door and already Andres had another girlfriend, whom he now wanted to wangle onto the heist? Well, he could bloody well forget it – there would be no romantic relationships allowed on this job. Sergio got out and slammed the door none too softly, miffed. Andres turned and smiled broadly, spreading his arms as he approached.  
“Little brother,” he beamed and engulfed Sergio in a hug. Over his shoulder Sergio looked at the woman, and a jolt of affirmation shot through him as her gaze met his and her lips curled into a friendly smile. She was casually dressed in jeans, a leather jacket and boots, and leant back against the car with her arms folded as she watched the two men great each other. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and he noticed that she had a nose-stud. He was perturbed; she was not his brother’s usual type – for one thing, she was about Sergio’s age and not the nubile young things Andres normally went for, only to discard them a few months later, and suddenly he was angry. He didn’t quite understand why, but he didn’t have time to analyse his reaction to the situation right then.  
“I was expecting Martin,” he said before his brother could say anything, and Andres’ face clouded.  
“Martin made a mistake on our previous job,” he informed Sergio. “I’m benching him for a while. No, there’s someone else I want you to meet.” All eyes turned to the woman, who met their scrutiny calmly.

“Sergio, this is Raquel Mercedes,” Andres began, “and she is the best safe-cracker I have ever had the pleasure to work with.”  
Sergio nodded at Raquel before he addressed his brother. “That’s what you said about Tatiana as well,” he reminded Andres brutally, and the other man winced.  
“That was uncalled for. Why would you bring that up?” he complained, frowning at Sergio.  
“Because you always do this, Andres, with the women. Well, I’m not having it. There is no place for girlfriends on this job-“  
His rant was interrupted by the woman in question jerking upright and blurting, “Wait, _what_?!”  
Sergio glanced at her. “No offence. I’m sure you’re perfectly capable, but we cannot afford any distractions.” He turned back to Andres. “I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again – a job _cannot_ be compromised by a romantic relationship.”  
“Hey, buddy, hang on,” Raquel interjected, and he couldn’t help but notice that she was gorgeous as she stepped forward with blazing eyes. “I am _nobody’s_ girlfriend.” She glared at his brother. “Is that what you told him, De Fonollosa?”  
She looked ready to slap Andres. “Believe me, I wouldn’t allow this asshole to touch me with a ten-foot pole, let alone date him,” she declared, and Sergio couldn’t help but be impressed. She was clearly not taken in by Andres’ charm, like so many women were.  
Andres laughed and looked at Sergio. “She’s a bit feisty, but like I said – she’s the best I’ve ever worked with. If we can’t get the staff to open those vaults for us, this little lady will conjure them open in no time.”  
Raquel tossed her hair out of her face and took a step towards Andres. “You call me ‘little lady’ again, and I’ll cut off your balls,” she threatened, annoyed, and Sergio smirked.   
She had spunk and she wasn’t backing down in front of his brother, which scored her a lot of points in his book. Perhaps Andres was right – perhaps she could be useful. And when her eyes met his once more and he saw something in their depths – a flicker that might have been interest – he nodded and said, “All right,” without examining his motives too closely.

_tbc_


	2. Professor

_This is one of those rare moments when, while doing that which it is one’s duty to do, one feels something which disconcerts one, and which would dissuade one from proceeding further; one persists, it is necessary, but conscience, though satisfied, is sad, and the accomplishment of duty is complicated with a pain at the heart.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

_Park in Madrid  
_ As soon as the words left his mouth, Sergio began to panic. What the hell was he doing? Why would he allow an unknown variable into the game this late in proceedings – a variable that could ruin the plan he had devoted his life to? He frantically cast around for a way to take it back, but hesitated when she smiled at him gratefully. She really was stunning. _And not dating your brother_ , a treacherous stray thought reminded him.  
“Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity,” she was saying. “I have a young daughter and an ailing mother to support, so I need the money.”  
That was it, that was the way out of the mess he had got himself into. But why was he so reluctant to take it?  
He glanced at Andres. “That could be a problem,” he began. Her face fell and he hated the thought of disappointing her, for some reason. “I need to isolate the crew for about five months whilst we train for the operation – I can’t afford to let people go home and let something slip that might alert the Police. Secrecy is of the utmost importance,” he added, pressing the point home by stabbing his forefinger to the ground a few times.  
“Five months?” she repeated in dismay and he nodded, hardening his heart with some difficulty.  
Andres interjected. “Sergio, can I have a word?” He grabbed his brother’s arm and dragged him away.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.  
Sergio took a breath. “I want people who don’t have anything to lose. She has a family – that automatically disqualifies her. Besides, we don’t know this woman. How do you know we can trust her? I’m not going to risk the whole plan just because you and Martin screwed up your previous job and now you owe someone a favour.”  
Andres shook his head, exasperated. “This is not about doing her _or_ me a favour. She could be extremely useful. And as for being trustworthy - I checked her out before I recruited her for my previous job. Of _course_ I did. I’ve been in this game a lot longer than you, little brother,” he reminded Sergio, but the younger man stood his ground.  
“How do you know we can trust her?” he persisted, and Andres rolled his eyes.  
“Miguel Fuentes vouched for her,” he explained, and Sergio cocked his head. Micky Fuentes was a legendary safe-cracker who had managed to evade arrest for more than thirty years. He was finally caught five years ago, but the cops buggered up the evidence and he walked free at his trial. He was a legend among heist-men and if he vouched for someone, that carried a lot of weight. “Micky trained her himself, Sergio. Her grandfather used to be one of his crew, and he’s known her since she was a small kid. He said she was the best he’s ever seen, after himself. She’s trustworthy.”  
Sergio looked over to Raquel, who was watching them anxiously. He was beginning to waver. Would it really be such a big risk? Besides, he could check with Micky Fuentes himself before bringing her into the training camp. He glanced at her fingers; she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “Where’s the father of the child? Is he still in the picture?”  
Andres shrugged. “I didn’t ask. She never mentions him. But I did overhear her once talking on the phone to her mother. I think he smacked her around, so she doesn’t want the guy anywhere near her daughter.”  
Sergio’s heart lurched. She’d been abused? He hated the thought. Perhaps, then, she would be happy to get out of the country and settle somewhere else, which his escape plan called for. He could alter the arrangements so that her daughter and mother could join her, if need be. “I suppose we could set up a secure video link so she can talk to her family without leaving the camp,” he mused, chewing his lip, and Andres clapped him on the shoulder.  
“Excellent idea.”

They went back over to Raquel and Sergio put his suggestion to her, and her face lit up. And now that he knew a little more about her history, the shadows in her eyes were plain to see. This was a woman who had known hardship and pain and he couldn’t help but feel a kinship with her; they both had pasts they wanted to lay to rest, and if he could help her get the money to do so, he realised, that would make him happy. So when she nodded and accepted his proposition, his heart leapt with joy.  
“All right then, Raquel,” he said, liking the way her name felt on his tongue. “Welcome to the crew.” He held out his hand and she momentarily hesitated, then reached out to shake it. A frisson ran up his spine when her skin made contact with his, and he saw her swallow before she smiled and murmured her thanks. “One thing, though,” he continued. “As indicated, I do not want any personal relationships to interfere with this project, so I don’t want the others to know that Andres and I are brothers. It would also be best if you don’t give any indication that you know Andres.” She nodded; she would happily pretend not to know De Fonollosa. He wasn’t done yet. “And don’t address me by my name in front of the others, please.”  
She tilted her head. “Okay. But what shall I call you, then?”  
His eyes met hers, and when he spoke there was a hint of steel in them, as though the mere use of the word he uttered had transformed him into someone else. “Professor. You can call me the Professor.”

_30 minutes later  
_ Once Andres dropped her off where she had left her own car, Raquel slid into the driver’s seat and sat for a while, pondering the latest developments. When De Fonollosa had let slip during the drive to the rendezvous that the mastermind behind the big heist was his brother, she had expected another version of Andres to pitch up – in other words smarmy, cock-sure and annoying. Boy, was she wrong. The man, Sergio, was nothing like his brother. Where De Fonollosa was self-centred and cynical, Sergio seemed kind and compassionate. And highly intelligent. _Not to mention cute_ , that pesky inner voice chipped in once more and she shook her head, annoyed. That was not relevant. He was definitely not of the same mould as the other criminals in the diamond underworld she had dealt with to date. These other men had been laughably easy to fool. They underestimated her right off the bat because she was a woman. All she had to do was to play dumb, simper to them and bat her eyelashes, and they never considered that she could be playing them. But she sensed that this man was different, and she would therefore have to watch her step. He would not be fooled quite so easily, for the simple reason that he was not a chauvinist. He would not be blinded by the fact that she was a woman. She wondered why he had agreed to let her become a part of the crew. He had obviously been in two minds about it and she had no idea what had swayed him. But she was in, and it was with a heavy heart that she started the car and drove home. How was she going to tell Paula that she would not be home for five months? They would talk via the video link, but it was not the same as being there to tuck her daughter in at night, to take her to school, to hold her when she cried. She sighed, and her anger at being forced into this operation flared once more. Unfortunately, the only way out that she could see was to gather the information they wanted. To find out what Sergio was planning and to betray him-

She stopped short, perturbed. _Where had that come from_? It was not betrayal; she would be doing her job, her duty, so that she could get back to Paula and her mother. But there was a lingering doubt that she could not shake off: they had shifted the goalposts before, how could she be sure they wouldn’t do it again? Raquel grinded the gears in frustration and deliberately forced her thoughts away from that avenue. It would not get her anywhere, and she needed to go into this seclusion with the rest of the crew with a clear mind. She could not afford to harbour doubts. What she needed to do, was to focus on what she could report about the mastermind behind the heist before she lost contact with her handlers.

So, what did she know about him? De Fonollosa had called him his ‘little brother’. But when she had previously researched De Fonollosa’s background, there had been no information about a sibling - at least not one born from the same mother. Was it perhaps meant figuratively? No. She didn’t think so. De Fonollosa was a borderline sociopath and yet he spoke about this ‘brother’ with genuine fondness, more than he had ever shown towards his close friend Martin, for instance. There had to be a blood link; maybe through the father then? The details of De Fonollosa’s father was not on his birth certificate and he had his mother’s surname, so she had no idea who his father was. It was a dead end for now, until she could find out more. All right, so back to the man in question. His name was Sergio, but she did not know what his surname was. It wasn’t De Fonollosa, or she would have picked him up in her background research. He was a head taller than her, kind of nerdish with the glasses and the suit, but she could tell that he took care of his body. He was not a wimp and his handshake had been firm but not over-the-top; he had nice broad shoulders and a slim waist, and she suspected that he could look after himself in a fight. His movement was sure-footed and balanced, like someone who knew his own physical limitations. He had nice hands – long-fingered and elegant, and clean nails. Fastidious, then; a man who wasn’t a dandy but who took care with his appearance. Exhibit B – his beard was neatly trimmed and his hair was washed and combed. He had smelled nice too ( _Christ, that word again, what was the matter with her?!_ ), masculine but clean.

Okay, enough about how ‘nice’ he looked. What did she know about his psychological set-up? She wasn’t a trained psychologist and criminologist for nothing; it was her job to analyse her quarry’s psychology. Whilst De Fonollosa had sociopathic tendencies and a bit of a violent streak, his brother did not seem to. Highly intelligent, as already mentioned, and would probably prefer to use reason rather than force to achieve his objectives. Meticulous. Guarded and somewhat shy, especially around women. Introverted. Probably not a fan of big crowds or parties. But despite that he knew what he wanted and would not be easily diverted from his chosen path. She would guess that he was stubborn once he set his mind to something. The repeated emphasis that personal relationships would not be allowed was also interesting. It indicated that he did not have any close relationships of his own at present, other than with his brother, perhaps. And possibly it also meant that he has not had many romantic relationships in his life. She wondered whether that was by choice or simply because he did not know how to deal with women. So in conclusion, very much a man who believed that the head could control the heart. As she pulled up in front of her house, she finally acknowledged to herself what she had studiously avoided up to that point - he fascinated her. That caught her off-guard; it was the first time since her divorce that a man had managed to surprise her and kindled her interest. She sighed; if she had met him under different circumstances, who knew what might have happened. But he was the main target of Operation Midnight and she could not afford to be distracted by him. It was a pity, but it was what it was. Just another instance of the universe screwing her over and laughing at her.

_Next day  
_ _Police safe house  
_ This time Raquel arrived on foot. It was before dawn and she took up position in the shadow of a tree across the road, shielding her from the glare of the streetlights. She was dressed in black and she leant her shoulder against the rough bark, settling in for the long haul. As she waited and watched she replayed the discussion with Paula and her mother the previous evening. It couldn’t have gone any worse and she knew, deep down, that it was the reason why she was here now, spying on her colleagues. As soon as Raquel had informed them that she would have to go away for five months and that they would only be able to speak via Skype during this time, her daughter had become sullen and withdrawn. When Raquel had tried to talk to her, to explain that it was work and not by choice, Paula had suddenly blurted, “Papa wants me to come and live with him and Aunt Martha,” and Raquel’s heart had broken into a million pieces. Paula was all she had left, and she could not bear the thought of losing her child to that abuser. She had tried to reason with her daughter, pointing out that they would never see each other if Paula went to live with her father, upon which the girl had sniped, “So? I never see you now, anyway.”  
Raquel had fought back tears at that, knowing it was true and feeling the resentment against her superiors pushing up in her chest once more, and perhaps that was why she had finally told her daughter about the abuse. “Sweetheart,” she’d said, kneeling down before Paula to look her in the eye, “I don’t want you to go and live with your father. He… He’s not a good man, Paula. He hurt Mama very much-“  
“That’s not true!” Paula had objected vehemently. “He told me it is a lie. You’re making it up to make him look bad.”  
Raquel had looked to her mother then and could see the same doubt hover in her eyes, and felt helpless and defeated. How was she ever going to convince a judge of Alberto’s guilt when her own mother didn’t even believe her? She sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes; she had not slept much after that conversation. Instead she had stared at the ceiling in the darkness and formulated a plan to keep her daughter away from Alberto, at least until she was done with this operation. After that she would hopefully be able to keep him away from Paula with the full backing of the law.

Angel was the first to arrive and she watched him stride inside without looking left or right. He was obviously not expecting anyone to watch the house and she found that interesting. If Operation Midnight was of such national importance, as Prieto had claimed, why the lack of security for this meeting? There was no surveillance on the house; should they not make sure that she was not being watched or followed? She stayed where she was; Angel was not expecting her for another thirty minutes, and she would wait him out and see what else she could observe. Prieto arrived some fifteen minutes later, and appeared to her eye to be similarly unconcerned about security. He got out of his car, his phone pressed to his ear, and his voice carried easily to her on the quiet morning air.  
“Yes, yes, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll keep her out of the way for as long as I can-“ and then he disappeared into the house and she couldn’t hear anything else. She remained rooted to the spot for a long time, thinking, before she slowly made her way across the road and to the front door.

It swung open as she approached and Angel stepped out, smiling broadly in welcome. “Raquel. I wasn’t expecting you to have something to report so soon. Good work,” he praised, but she brushed past him without so much as a glance. She was not in the mood to play nice. His face fell and he trailed after her into the lounge, where Prieto was making himself a cup of coffee. The Intelligence man swung round as she entered.  
“Inspector Murillo, good morning. Coffee?” he offered, but she stared him down.  
“No. I don’t want any fucking coffee.”  
He lifted an eyebrow and looked towards Angel, who was hovering in the door and watching Raquel apprehensively. “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he said, and it only fuelled her anger.  
“Perhaps because my shitty ex-husband has asked my daughter to come and live with him, just as you are about to send me undercover once more.” Angel stared at her, surprised, but Prieto simply stood there, stirring his coffee. “Now, a suspicious person might wonder whether the two developments are connected,” she continued, her anger simmering through every word.  
Angel stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Raquel. I had no idea,” he said, spreading his hands in a calming gesture, but she ignored him. She kept staring at Prieto.  
“No, Angel, I don’t suppose you would know. Because let’s face it – you might be my handler, but you are by no means the one calling the shots here. Right, Prieto?”

The Colonel smiled thinly and tipped his head towards her fractionally. He was beginning to wonder whether he might have underestimated the Inspector. But he would not let her lecture him – he was one of those men who believed that offence was the best form of defence. “I hope you have not called this meeting just so that you could share your messy personal life with us, Inspector,” he said condescendingly, “I thought you had some developments to report?”  
Raquel balled her fists, but she smiled bitterly at him all the same. She had been dealing with assholes like him her entire working life, and she was not intimidated in the least. “Oh, I have some information. But before I give you anything, I want an assurance that you will keep my ex-husband away from my daughter until this operation is over.”  
Prieto laughed. “Really, Inspector. I don’t know where you got the idea that you have any bargaining power here?” he mocked.  
Raquel took a moment; she knew that he was right, and that she would have to use all her skill as a trained negotiator to get what she wanted, which was for her daughter to be safe. “You’re right, Colonel, but I hope that we can come to some sort of understanding. For my daughter’s sake.” She dropped her shoulders, going for a meeker posture. “Look. I will find it very difficult to concentrate on the operation if I have to worry about my daughter’s safety the whole time. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for an assurance that you will keep Alberto away from her.” She looked at him beseechingly, playing her last card. “If you have a shred of humanity in you, I beg you not to put my daughter in danger. She’s only a child – she shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of her parents. Please?”  
Prieto sipped his coffee and considered the request. She was basically grovelling at his feet and it stoked his ego. Perhaps it was time for a gesture of appeasement – besides, it would be another thing to hold over her head, should the need arise. “All right, Inspector,” he agreed magnanimously, “we’ll keep Vicuna away from your family for the duration of the operation.”

Raquel closed her eyes and relief flooded her. Thank God. Paula was safe for now. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, and he smiled at her.  
“Now, what have you got for us?” he asked, getting back to business briskly, and she squared her shoulders. It was time to do her duty once more. But as soon as that word came to mind she saw Sergio’s eyes before her, kind, intelligent and warm, and she hesitated.  
“I’m in,” she reported, counting her words carefully. “Tomorrow I will be collected and taken to an undisclosed location, where the crew will train for the heist. I was told it could take as long as five months.”  
Prieto and Angel looked at each other, perturbed.  
“Five months?” the Colonel echoed. “What the hell are they planning that would need such a long period to train for?”  
Raquel shrugged. “I don’t know. The leader is playing his cards close to his chest.” She couldn’t resist getting in a little dig, so she added, “Was that not part of the information Intelligence supposedly obtained to upgrade this to a national emergency, then?”  
Prieto rolled his eyes and turned away, and she smirked at Angel.  
“Did you meet him? The leader?” the policeman interjected, and she made sure to hold his gaze as she answered.  
“No. He sent De Fonollosa to convey the message.”  
Angel sighed, disappointed, not suspecting for one second that she was lying to him, and she was both extremely proud and a little horrified. But she supposed that’s what happened when one had to lie on a daily basis for two years in order to stay alive – one was bound to get very good at it. What she found more difficult to explain, however, was why she felt the need to lie to them at all. In the end, all she gave them was Sergio’s code-name.  
“All I know is that everyone calls him the Professor.”

_tbc_


	3. Lisbon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reviews. For those hoping for more than 11 chapters - sorry folks, I am incapable of writing long stories due to time constraints and a short attention span 😜. I'd rather stick to what I've planned and make sure I actually finish it.

_She worked in order to live, and presently fell in love, also in order to live, for the heart, too, has its hunger.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

_Next day  
_ _Madrid  
_ Sergio collected Raquel Mercedes at her designated pick-up point early the next morning. She was the first on his route and he found her waiting, standing next to a duffel bag on the corner of the street as instructed. When he pulled up with the van she slung her bag in the back and then got into the passenger seat with a nod.  
“Professor,” she acknowledged, and he approved of her professionalism – already she was careful not to use his name. It was a strange feeling to have one of the gang know his name, and that he and Andres were brothers. The loss of anonymity unsettled him; it was a risk, something he hadn’t planned for, and that made him uncomfortable. He had used the last two days to look into the safe-cracker, but had found nothing to be concerned about. Micky Fuentes had sung her praises when Sergio had called him, and a background check had not raised any questions. She was who she claimed to be as far as he could tell. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and her face was closed as she stared out of the window. She seemed preoccupied, but also something else. Self-contained, as though she was guarding herself carefully, and it made him wonder. What was she guarding? Was she hiding something? He knew what Andres would say: that he was paranoid just because he hadn’t hand-picked her himself. But the same was true of Ricardo Ramos, though; he was only there because Sergio needed his father to dig the tunnel, and he had wanted his son to come along. And that didn’t bother Sergio nearly as much. _Could it be because she was beautiful and she made you feel things you haven’t in a very long time?_ an unwelcome inner voice goaded him, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Yes, that might well be, he had to admit. She made him uncomfortable because she _interested_ him.

He cleared his throat. He might as well utilise the twenty minutes alone in the van to learn something about her. For operational purposes, of course. “Tell me about your daughter,” he said, and her head turned to him in surprise.  
“My daughter?” she echoed, and there was a hint of suspicion in her voice. “Why?”  
“Well,” he shifted uncomfortably, “because, erm…” He had nothing and smiled, somewhat embarrassed. “Sorry. Just trying to make conversation,” he added lamely, and her face unexpectedly softened.  
She lifted a hand in apology. “No, I’m sorry.” She looked down at her lap. “It was hard to say goodbye to her, knowing I won’t see her for five months, you know?” she explained, and he stared fixedly at the road. No, he didn’t know, not really; it’s not as if he had ever loved somebody so much that he couldn’t contemplate being apart from them for a few months. And then he wondered if she resented him for it. That could be a problem; resentment often led to betrayal, or something worse.  
“Look, if you’re having second thoughts-“ he began, but she overrode him.  
“I’m not,” she said, smiling wanly at him. “And I won’t hold it against you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” It was as if she had read his mind. “I chose to come – I know that,” she continued, and he processed that.  
Motivation was important, so he asked, “Why did you?”  
She was quiet for a while and he wondered whether she wouldn’t answer, but eventually she did. “If the spoils of this heist are going to be as big as De Fonollosa claimed, it might be enough to get us away from here. Spain,” she clarified, and he looked at her then. Her face was vulnerable and endlessly sad, and he almost reached out to squeeze her hand but stopped himself just in time.  
“Is that what you want? To get away?” he probed, his heart suddenly beating faster, and she took a deep breath.  
“Mostly, I want to get my daughter away, so that she would be safe.” She glanced at him and when she continued her voice dropped, as though she was ashamed by what she was telling him. “My ex, her father, he, uhm, he beat me,” she confessed and tears pooled in her eyes. “But I have no proof, and in any case I’m a thief, so I can’t exactly go to the Police. I don’t want Paula to suffer the same fate, you know?”

So Andres had been right about the child’s father abusing Raquel. The thought made his blood boil and he found himself offering, “I can organise for you to settle somewhere else after the heist, if that is what you want. Somewhere safe. With your daughter. And your mother too, if you’d like.”  
She stared at him, surprised. “You’d do that?”  
He nodded. “It’s part of the plan – to get everyone involved away and settled somewhere safe,” he informed her, and it warmed his heart when she smiled gratefully.  
“Oh. Well then, thank you. I would appreciate it if you’d include my daughter and mother in those arrangements.”  
“Of course,” he agreed, aware of her scrutiny as they drove on, as though she was seeing him in a new light, but he couldn’t know that she was pondering the irony of the situation – that this man, a criminal, a thief, was offering to help her whilst her colleagues in the Police, whose job it was to help people like her, was instead screwing her over. It was surreal.  
They reached the second pick-up point where Augustin Ramos and his son were waiting, and he was strangely disappointed that their cosy chat would not continue any further.

_Four hours later  
_ _Toledo  
_ Raquel found herself alone in her assigned room in the dusty, ramshackle old house the Professor had brought them to. The place was a dump, but at least it was big enough for everyone to have their own room, for which she was grateful. It would be nice to have her own space in which she could decompress and relax and just be herself, and not have to keep up the façade of Raquel Mercedes, safe-cracker. She needed that not to lose her sanity. She wondered how on earth he had procured this estate, but she had to admit it was admirably suited to their purpose. It was secluded and far enough away from the other houses in the vicinity so that they would be able to go about their training unnoticed. As she unpacked she went over the rest of the gang in her mind. Even though everyone had been careful not to identify themselves - the Professor had clearly briefed all of them extensively beforehand on the need for anonymity - she knew the names of quite a few of the people they had picked up from the Police files. There was Agustin Ramos, who had done time for robbery, and although she did not know the younger man that came with him she had later learnt that it was his son. Then there was Agata Jimenez, who she knew was a forger, and that was interesting. Did that mean that this job would involve fake money somehow? And last but not least there was Silene Oliveira, who had recently been involved in a shoot-out with the Police in which her boyfriend had been killed, and in which she had shot and killed a security guard. The others she did not know – the two foreigners, possibly Bosnians or Serbs judging from the language they spoke in to each other, and the young man with the easy smile and the curly hair. It was rather a motley bunch the Professor had assembled, and she was genuinely curious to know what he planned to achieve with this mob of losers. She glanced at her watch – she would find out soon enough; they had been instructed to gather in what the Professor referred to as the classroom in an hour’s time.

_One hour later  
_ Sergio watched them file into the classroom and pick seats. Some rolled their eyes at the small school desks but they all sat down and stared at him expectantly. There was nothing like the prospect of fabulous riches to focus the mind, it seemed, even for a bunch of crooks and robbers. He was aware of Raquel, seated behind his brother, as she fastidiously wiped the dust from her desk before placing two pencils carefully next to each other on the now-clean surface. He wondered why she’d brought two, perhaps in case one’s nub broke, he supposed. Right, time to start. He pushed his glasses up his nose and wrote ‘Welcome’ on the board behind him.  
“I’d like to thank you all for accepting this, er, job offer,” he began, before he explained that they would train there for five months. Furthermore, no mobile phones or contact with the outside world would be allowed during this time. That caused some dissent, but they soon accepted it when he said, “What is five months of isolation if it means you’ll never have to work again, and neither will your children?” He couldn’t help but glance at Raquel as he said this, and saw her lean forward and listen carefully. Then he got to the important part: spelling out his rules – no names, no personal questions and most important of all, no personal relationships. That garnered a few disbelieving looks, but no-one said anything. And this time, he carefully did _not_ make eye contact with the safe-cracker as he spelt out that last rule. He instructed them to choose code-names and after they settled on using cities, they went around the room for each person to state their chosen name. When it was Raquel’s turn, she pondered for a bit before she stated, “Lisbon,” in a decisive voice. From that moment on, he did his utmost to think of her as Lisbon, safe-cracker extraordinaire, and not as Raquel, beautiful woman with a troubled past who made him feel things he would rather not.

Finally it was time to get down to the real business they were gathered there for. He began by enticing them with the assertion that this heist would capture the imagination of the nation. Then he hammered home the point that it was vital to have public opinion on their side. Because they were not going to steal anyone’s money, everyone would think they were heroes and would wish that they had thought of this plan. He was careful to stress the importance of not shedding any blood in the process, as that would transform them from Robin Hoods to sons of bitches. He was aware, all through this speech, that Raq-, er, Lisbon was watching him with a focussed intensity, absorbing and analysing every word he uttered. She seemed pleased by the emphasis on not hurting anyone. And then Tokyo asked what they would rob, and he pointed at the model of the white building at the back of the room.  
“The Spanish Royal Mint.”

_Later that night  
_ Raquel retired early, just after dinner. She had a lot to think about. Moonlight streamed in through the window and she gravitated towards it, settling on the broad windowsill and folding her arms around her knees. As she stared out over the silver landscape, she ran through the Professor’s plan in her mind once more, this time with the eye of a cop. Her first impression had been that it was brilliant, maybe even foolproof, and her admiration for the intelligence behind it had grown with each detail he revealed. It must have taken him years to develop it, to research every little detail and to study the police procedures for each eventuality. She could tell, from watching his face light up as he talked about his plan, that this was somehow personal to him. Thus far he had been reserved and watchful when he had been in her presence, but in front of their ‘class’ he had become animated and expressive. He had smiled broadly a couple of times and she had thought it a thing of beauty – the way it made him look like a little boy, still wide-eyed at the wonders the world might hold. He had held their attention easily, this group of criminals he had assembled, and that in itself was a feat worthy of admiration. They all seemed to be buying into what he was selling, and for a few unguarded moments that had also included her. _This could bloody well work_ , she’d found herself thinking repeatedly.

There was a lot to like about it from her perspective. The fact that they would not actually be stealing anything that belonged to anybody – they would simply print their own money. The repeated accentuation that no blood should be spilled. The way they would lead the Police on a merry dance and keep them off-balance. Okay, maybe she should not enjoy that last one so much, seeing as she was one of those Police officers that would be led around by the nose, but she was not currently too enamoured with her colleagues so sue her if she enjoyed the prospect of them being brought down a peg or two a little too much. So yes, she admired the intricate brilliance of the Professor’s plan, and it was almost a pity to be the one that would ruin it. But that was what she was here for, and she better not lose sight of that and get too immersed in this world and these people (well, one in particular). She had noticed his gaze gravitating towards her frequently – she ignored the fact that she could only have noticed if she had watched him very closely as well, telling herself that it was her job to do so – and she thought she saw his expression soften whenever he did so. Was he attracted to her? She was surprised at the warmth that spread through her at the possibility. _Careful. This is the man you are supposed to put in jail_. Surely the only reason that reality made her uncomfortable was because he had offered her a way to keep her daughter safe. But she didn’t even know whether he had really meant it – it was easy to make promises. He could be using it as a carrot to keep everyone on-side, with no intention of actually delivering. She had barely finished the thought when there was a knock on her door, and when she opened it the Professor stood there, as though she had conjured him to her with these doubts.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” he said, shifting from foot to foot, “but can I come in for a few minutes? It’s about your mother and daughter.”  
She stood aside and he brushed past her, then waited until she’d closed the door and sat down on the foot of the bed.  
“What is it?” she asked, worried that something had happened to her family. _If Alberto had hurt them_ -  
He must have seen the panic on her face because he hastily added, “Nothing’s wrong,” and she heaved a sigh of relief. “I wanted to ask your permission to send someone to your house to take identity photos of them. For the false passports for the escape plan.”  
She stared at him. “Oh. You’re serious about that, then? That you’ll help me get them out of the country?”  
He looked affronted. “Of course I am.” He leant forward, looking at her earnestly. “I always keep my word. I won’t fail you in this, Raquel. I won’t fail any of you.”  
 _Raquel_. She dropped her gaze, feeling guilty for some reason, but then lifted it again to meet his eyes. Such lovely, warm eyes.  
“Lisbon,” she reminded him with a small smile in a half-hearted attempt to keep things professional between them, and he laughed self-consciously.  
“Right. Lisbon,” he corrected, and they stared at each other for a few charged seconds before she got a hold of herself and sobered.  
 _You’re here to do a job. Focus, for God’s sake. This could be a chance to report in_. “Thank you. But, erm…” She looked away as her thoughts went to her beloved mother. “My mother, she, er, gets confused,” she admitted in a low voice and his heart ached at the obvious pain it was causing her to say the words. “It might be better if I go, so that I can make sure she understands what’s happening.”  
This time Sergio couldn’t help himself. The thought of everything this woman had been through – the abuse, and now a mother beginning to succumb to Alzheimer’s – moved him, and he reached out to squeeze her hand. “All right,” he agreed, anxious to ease her worry, and staunchly ignoring the warning light that was blinking in the back of his mind, wondering why she was so eager to go herself.  
Her eyes flew to his as his skin made contact with hers and she felt a slight blush tinge her cheeks. _Jesus, Raquel. Get a fucking grip_. “Thank you,” she managed, before pulling her hand away, uncomfortable at the conflicting emotions rushing through her.  
He seemed to pick up on her unease because he stood immediately and with a brisk, “Good night, then,” made his way to the door.  
She watched him go, unexpectedly moved by his kindness. When was the last time another human being, apart from her mother, had tried to comfort her? She couldn’t remember. “Good night, Professor,” she responded, almost wistfully, and he hesitated at the door, looking at her, before he nodded and closed it softly behind him. Closing her in with her thoughts, her doubts, and her desires.

She didn’t move for a long time after he left, trying to make sense of her confusing emotions. She somehow knew that he had told her the truth – that he would not let her, or any member of the team he had assembled, down. And it was her job to ruin his plan and put them all in jail. But in doing so, would she sacrifice the only chance she had to keep her daughter out of Alberto’s clutches? Did she have any hope of winning a legal battle against her ex-husband? And would it even come to that? The Security establishment was clearly not keen to see one of their star officers prosecuted for abuse, but how far were the likes of Prieto prepared to go to prevent that? The fact that she wasn’t sure of the answer disturbed her, and made things so much more difficult for her. If only there was some way to have her cake and eat it, too. But in order to do that, she would have to fool not only the Professor and his crew, but also her colleagues in the Police and Intelligence. It would require a dangerous and tricky balancing act on her part, but as she sat there, filled with desperation, she resolved to find a way to do just that.

_tbc_


	4. Confidences

_To lie a little is not possible: he who lies, lies the whole lie.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

_Next day  
_ _Heist training camp, Toledo  
_ Raquel set to work the next day. If she was going to pull this off, she needed to make sure that everyone there trusted her. It would not do to keep herself apart from the others – she would have to make them all feel that she was one of them, that she wanted to be there. Moscow was easy enough. He was closer to her age than the others and they both had children, so all she had to do was let slip that she had a daughter and she found him eager to talk to her. The Professor’s rules were not off to a very good start – already people were sharing small titbits about themselves, but he seemed to be blissfully unaware of the breaches. Once she had befriended Moscow, Denver followed automatically. He was not the brightest of guys, but he was sweet and easy to like and she became something of a mother figure for him. The dilemma of how to approach Rio solved itself when they were assigned cooking duties in pairs of two and drew lots to decide who would pair up, and she drew the youngest member of the team. That gave her the opportunity to build a rapport with him and she made good use of it. The Serbians were a bit of a lost cause, though. They were ex-soldiers and used to following orders, and she got the impression that they would shoot her if someone ordered them to do so, no matter how much they liked her. So in the end she didn’t bother with them too much.

She took a bit more care with the two other women on the team. She liked Nairobi; she was funny and outgoing, and right from the start she didn’t take any shit from the men. All it took to make her an ally was for Raquel to slap down Berlin when he made one of his sexist comments, and from then on the two of them bonded over their annoyance with the patriarchal attitude of the men. Tokyo, however, proved to be a challenge. She was headstrong and volatile, and Raquel could not really find any common ground with her. In the back of her mind she was always aware that this woman had killed a security guard, and she did not approach her for the time being, deciding to wait and watch for a while.

When it was her and Rio’s turn to make dinner, Raquel found that they had all the ingredients to make margaritas and took it upon herself to teach the young man how to mix the drink. Of course they had to taste the first few attempts, and by the time Tokyo strolled into the kitchen Raquel and Rio was laughing together over a joke that probably wasn’t all that funny in the first place.  
“Tokyo!” Rio called, waving around the bottle of tequila, “Lisbon is teaching me how to make margaritas!” He grinned tipsily and Raquel, who could handle her liquor a lot better than him, was aware of a slight narrowing of the eyes as Tokyo regarded them. When her gaze met Raquel’s, it was rather cold and… jealous? Interesting. Did she have a crush on Rio?  
“Hmm,” Tokyo said non-committally, staring at Raquel, “and were you going to share with the rest of us?”  
Raquel smiled easily, pretending not to pick up on the antagonistic vibes. “Sure. I think he’s got it now. We’re only waiting for the roast potatoes then we’ll be out with the feast.” Just then the oven pinged and Raquel busied herself taking the roasting pan out of the oven. But she filed away Tokyo’s reaction and from then on watched her interaction with Rio carefully, and within a day was certain that they were having sex. She didn’t say anything, it was not her place; but wondered what the Professor would say if he knew that another of his rules were being flagrantly disregarded.

They had been there for three days when the Professor called her over after class. “Lisbon. You need to come with me. I have managed to obtain a vault door similar to the ones being used in the Royal Mint. I’ll take you there three times a week, to practice.”  
It was said loud enough so that the others could hear as well, and she nodded and gathered her stuff to follow him to the car. As they drove through the gates she turned to him. “How on earth did you manage to get access to a vault door?”  
He glanced at her. “I haven’t.”  
Her pulse quickened. _Oh shit_. Had her cover been blown…? “Then where are we going?” she frowned, making an effort to keep her voice even. _Never show fear_.  
"To another safe house,” he said and smiled briefly at her, settling her nerves. “It’s best that the others don’t know that you’re allowed to have contact with your family. It might cause resentment and I can’t afford that.”  
“Oh,” she responded, flooded with relief, which was quickly replaced by anticipation. She was going to see her daughter’s face in a few minutes and the thought filled her with happiness. “I really am very grateful for this,” she told the Professor, and his hands flexed on the steering wheel.  
“Of course. Family is important,” he said, and his wistful tone made her look at him carefully.  
There was a trace of sadness in his eyes and the slight downturn of his mouth, and before she could stop herself she asked, “Do you have any family? Other than Andres, I mean,” and he stiffened. “Oh shit, sorry,” she laughed, “I momentarily forgot about not asking any personal questions. Just ignore that.”  
He relaxed and smiled with her, and they drove for a couple of minutes in companionable silence. Eventually Raquel spoke again. “Professor. Can I ask, though; why this emphasis on not sharing any personal information with each other?”  
He glanced at her, for the first time realising how bizarre his rules might seem to anyone that did not live inside his head. “It’s for your own protection,” he responded. “If anyone gets caught, I don’t want them to be in a position to tell the Police anything about the others.”  
She nodded. “That makes sense.”  
He relaxed again, happy that they were on the same page, but then she added, “Unless they arrest _you_ , of course.” His head snapped towards her and she continued, deadly serious now, “You know everything about all of us.” Even though she didn’t say it, the _that hardly seems fair_ was clearly implied, and he fumbled for a response.  
“The chances of that happening are much less,” he argued and she snorted.  
“Because you’ll be staying on the outside? I don’t know; I think you are as much in danger as the rest of us, if not more.”

This time the silence that settled on them was rather uncomfortable, until she shifted tack and tried again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound judgemental; you have clearly thought about every possible angle and I do trust that you know what you’re doing. It’s a brilliant plan, Professor.” Sergio tilted his head in acknowledgement and she continued. “How did you come up with it?”  
He hesitated, but for some unfathomable reason could not lie to her about this. “I didn’t,” he confessed and she looked at him in surprise.  
“Then who did?”  
“…The most important person in my life. My father.” And once he had divulged that, he reckoned he might as well tell her the rest. He told her about being ill as a child, and how his father used to tell him heist stories in hospital, including the one about printing your own money. And when he told her about his father being shot whilst trying to rob a bank to pay for his treatment, he wasn’t even aware that he was crying until he felt her soft skin against his as she reached out and gently wiped a tear from his cheek. He might have imagined it, but he thought her touch lingered, and when he risked a glance at her he saw that her own eyes were filled with tears, and somehow he was grateful that she understood the weight of what he was telling her. She didn’t say anything, but her hand dropped briefly to his arm and squeezed it in a gesture of comfort, then withdrew when they pulled up in front of a small house and the moment was broken.

_Later that night  
_ As Raquel lay in bed that night her thoughts were occupied by the Professor. He had shared something personal with her, against his own rules, and a lot of things now began to make sense. This heist was more an homage to his father than an endeavour to get rich. He didn’t care about the money, not really; it was more important to him to realise his dead father’s dream. Somewhere along the line his father’s dream had become his, and she understood now that nothing would divert him from his chosen course. She pictured the sick little boy, confined to his hospital bed, being told about his father’s death and realising that it had happened because of him, because his father was desperate to save _him_. It broke her heart. If ever there was an understandable reason for why someone had turned to a life of crime, this was it. It also explained his dislike of the Police and the authorities in general – they had taken his father from him and left him with this debt, this burden, to carry for the rest of his life. _Poor Sergio_. She quickly squashed that thought. No matter how understandable it was, what he planned to do was still a crime and it was still her duty to prevent it. She could not lose sight of that. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not stop thinking about his skin under her fingers as she wiped away the tear that had slipped from the corner of his eye. _So much hurt out there_. It was a timely reminder that she was not the only one who’d suffered. This situation had many shades of grey and very little black-and-white, and she was struggling to hang on to her traditional views of good versus bad. The more she learnt about him, the more she realised that Sergio was more good than bad, whilst the opposite was happening in terms of her views of people like Colonel Prieto and to a lesser extent of Angel. They were certainly not all good. She was becoming more confused with each day that passed, and she wondered bleakly whether that was simply her psyche finally buckling under the pressure of long-term undercover work, or whether there were real grounds for this confusion.

When she finally fell asleep she dreamt of him. Sergio. He was standing on a beach and she was walking towards him, and when he saw her he smiled with genuine joy. But something was wrong; she felt an unbearable weight on her shoulders as she neared him, and it was only when she had almost reached him that she realised why. Behind him Angel and Colonel Prieto were running across the sand, and both had guns in their hands. She tried to shout a warning but no sound came out of her mouth, and she watched the smile slip from Sergio’s face as the first bullet tore through him. She reached him as he began to topple over and caught him, easing his weight to the sand. There was something wet and sticky drenching her shirt and she knew without looking that it was blood, Sergio’s blood, and she found her voice then and screamed. He looked at her with sad, sad eyes and managed to whisper only one word on his last breath, and as she jerked awake in a cold sweat it continued to echo around the empty room.  
 _Traitor_.

_Two weeks later  
_ She came to look forward to their trips to the other safe house. It was about a twenty-minute drive and they spent the time chatting and learning more about each other. To her surprise they never ran out of things to talk about; they had a lot in common and he was an engaging, intelligent and unexpectedly funny conversationalist. Sometimes they would discuss his plan, and she was flattered to realise that he valued her comments and occasional criticisms.  
“I can understand every person on the team’s role, except for Tokyo,” she commented on one such occasion. She was still struggling to make a connection with the woman and hoped to learn something from the Professor that she could use. “I don’t mean to second-guess you, but why would you risk having such a volatile personality as part of the group? She could potentially fuck everything up if she lost control whilst we’re in there,” she continued.  
Sergio pursed his lips and considered his answer before speaking. “Tokyo is there,” he finally said, “for the unexpected. If things should go wrong, we might need a sledgehammer rather than a precision instrument – someone who would not shirk away from fighting violence with violence.” He glanced at her. “Do you understand?”  
Raquel nodded slowly. Tokyo was the insurance, the steel disguised inside the velvet glove. What that meant for Raquel, of course, was that she was more than likely to be the one to act should Raquel’s cover ever be blown. Her troubled thoughts were interrupted as they pulled up at the second safe house and Sergio held out the car keys to her. This time she was to go on alone, back home to Madrid, to take the pictures needed for her mother and daughter’s false passports. Unbeknownst to Sergio she had also arranged to meet with her handler by slipping a code-word into her last conversation with her mother, who would have relayed it to Angel, and he would also be waiting at the family home to debrief her. So she smiled wanly at him, this kind man who was offering her a way to save her daughter from a childhood filled with violence, and drove away feeling hollow and miserable. She was about to sell him out to those he despised – the Police who had taken his father from him.

_Thirty minutes later  
_ As soon as her key turned in the front door she heard Paula squeal, “Mama’s here!” and for a while she forgot all her doubts and troubles. She scooped her daughter up in her arms and peppered kisses all over her face. “Hi, sweetheart. God, I’ve missed you _so much_ ,” she exclaimed, squeezing Paula until she giggled and protested that she couldn’t breathe. Marivi stepped out of the sitting room and her joy at seeing her mother was tempered by the appearance of Angel behind her. She hugged her mother and then said to her family, “I need to speak to Angel for a bit, okay?” and Marivi ushered Paula into the kitchen.

She followed Angel into the sitting room with only a nod for a greeting – she was still miffed with him and she wanted him to know it – to find another man waiting there, a laptop open in front of him.  
“Who’s this?” she asked, immediately on guard.  
“He’s here to compile an identikit of the Professor with your help,” Angel explained and her heart sank. This was it; there was to be no more hiding, no more procrastination. It was time to make her choice. “I assume you’ve seen his face by now?” Angel continued, and she detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He was obviously hurt by her attitude and she made an effort to appear warmer towards him. She could not afford to put Angel’s back up too much – not if she wanted to pull off her plan of playing both sides.  
She forced a satisfied smile onto her face as she responded. “Yes I have. And I also know what the target is.”  
Angel also smiled, mollified by the accomplishment radiating from her. This was the Raquel he knew and loved – the one who took pride in her job, who loved getting one over on the bad guys. “Do you think they suspect anything, or is your cover secure?”  
“It’s secure for now,” she said as she sat down next to the identikit man. “Listen, I can’t stay for too long, and I’d like some time alone with my family before I leave, so can I brief you while we do this?” She gestured at the laptop and Angel hesitated before he nodded, disappointed that she wanted to cut short their time together. She began to talk, dividing her attention between the face taking shape on the laptop and her former partner, weighing each word with extreme care before uttering it. Somehow she had to convince the Police to let the heist begin, to allow them a few days inside the Mint before they took action. If she gave them too much too soon, that would never happen.

Ten minutes later she sat back, tilting her head as she studied the identikit that had been created. “Yes, that’s him. That’s the Professor,” she declared and Angel peered over her shoulder.  
“Hmm. He looks familiar,” he commented, and Raquel’s heart began to hammer in her chest. “But I can’t quite place where I’ve seen his face before,” he added and she relaxed again.  
“Well, run it through the Police database – maybe he’s been arrested in the past,” she suggested. Then she added nonchalantly, “I’ll keep trying to find out his real name.” She couldn’t resist adding, “I think he fancies me, so maybe I can pry it out of him in an intimate moment.”  
She was mostly kidding, but Angel’s head snapped towards her. “You’d sleep with him?!” he exclaimed, and his judgemental tone annoyed her. She knew what this was about; he was always playing the injured party because she kept saying no to him. Because she refused to sleep with _him_.  
“Yes I would, why not?” she said snippily. “He’s not married and I am a free, forty-year old woman who could do with a good shag, so why wouldn’t I? It wouldn’t be much of a hardship,” she added, nodding at the handsome face on the laptop screen and Angel turned away, jealous and angry.  
“Yes, I suppose anyone would do,” he retorted viciously, and she knew what he was thinking. _Anyone but me_.  
She sighed, feeling sorry for the identikit man who had to listen to their infantile bickering. “Look, Angel,” she began, her voice suddenly weary. “You know I don’t make a habit of sleeping with my marks. It’s the stress of the operation – of being out in the field for so long - talking.” She left it at that, letting him figure it out for himself, and his shoulders sagged.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, and she got the impression he was apologising for more than his attitude, so she gave him a genuine smile and tried to appease him.  
“It was good to see you. It’s nice to see a friendly face.” And with that they parted on good terms, to her relief. She could not afford to have him suspicious of her actions.

Once the policemen had left she spent another hour with her family. She sat them down and talked to them earnestly about what she planned to do, and then she took out the camera and captured the photos for their fake passports. It was a risk, explaining what she was going to do to her forgetful mother, but she hoped that it was important enough that Marivi would remember the instructions. And when she eventually collected Sergio again and looked into his warm eyes, she was overcome with guilt. What she had just done could very well lead to his arrest in a few months’ time when the heist plan was implemented. But the safety of her daughter was more important than her duty or the growing attraction she felt to this socially awkward heist man. Besides, there was no turning back now; she had put things in motion that couldn’t be undone and the only way to come out of this alive, was to commit to her plan without hesitation.

_tbc_


	5. Falling

_Loving is almost a substitute for thinking. Love is a burning forgetfulness of all other things. How shall we ask passion to be logical?  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

_Heist training camp  
_ _Toledo  
_ Life settled into a rhythm in the training camp and the days passed almost unnoticed. There was a certain comfort in being cocooned away from the real world, without access to any communication devices, and Raquel had to remind herself on a daily basis not to let her guard down. She grew increasingly fond of her co-conspirators as she got to know them better, with the exception of Tokyo, who remained aloof and watched her like a hawk every time she talked to Rio. It amused Raquel that the other woman could think that she was interested in the IT whiz; he was practically a boy, still, and she was forty years old for God’s sake. Besides, there was someone else that held her interest, but of course Tokyo and the others could not know of the growing closeness between Lisbon and the Professor as they spent time together on those trips to ‘practice with the vault door’. And even if they did, she was sure that they would not suspect for one minute that it was threatening to turn into something more, for the simple reason that they all believed the Professor was hopeless when it came to women. Raquel had overheard Tokyo teasing the Professor a few days ago, mocking him about his lack of experience with relationships, and it had given her pause. Whilst that had also been her impression when she had first met him, she had begun to revaluate her initial assessment because he seemed so comfortable in her presence when it was just the two of them. He smiled easily and laughed at her jokes, and that probably pleased her more than it should.

She sighed. She had been trying very hard to convince herself that she was not attracted to him, not _really_ , and that these feelings were a by-product of immersing herself in the role of Raquel Mercedes, safe-cracker. But when she caught herself staring at his lips for the umpteenth time as he talked to her during their latest trip, she could no longer fool herself. She was attracted to him. She wanted to kiss him, to find out what he tasted like. She wanted to feel his skin under her hands. God, she wanted to have sex with him. The strength of her desire sometimes blind-sided her, and at those times she had to avert her eyes because she knew he would be able to see it. It would not be so bad if she didn’t suspect that he was also attracted to her. It was there in the little things – the way his eyes sought her out before anyone else when they entered the classroom, the personal information he shared with her despite all his rules against it, and the fleeting touches when he passed near her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to talk herself out of jumping him, because if they both wanted it, then why not? She was unattached, he was unattached; what would be the harm in scratching this particular itch? Surely this was nothing more than lust – it’s not like they were actually falling in love with each other. Was it…?

She was struggling with these troubling thoughts as she trailed into the class after the others and took her seat. She was aware of Sergio watching her and smiling to himself when she picked up the second pencil and tied up her hair, and she couldn’t stop herself from meeting his gaze and smiling back. She was so fucked.  
“This afternoon we are going to do some hands-on practice on how to subdue a difficult hostage without hurting them too much,” he announced, and everyone perked up. Most, if not all the people in that room, were doers rather than thinkers, and they always enjoyed the practical lessons more than the theoretical ones. They followed him to another room where some gym mats had been spread on the floor. “Tokyo, you’re first up,” the Professor announced and she strutted forward with a smug smile, obviously confident in her own abilities. “Right, who wants to volunteer to be the hostage?” he asked, and for some reason Raquel found herself stepping forward.  
“I’ll do it,” she said, and saw Tokyo’s eyes light up. The Professor, however, was momentarily discombobulated, and it took a second before he stepped up to her and demonstrated how to grab an outstretched arm and turn the hostage, so that one could place a choke-hold on them to subdue them. This was how Raquel found her back pressed against Sergio’s chest and his arm around her neck, and she lost all coherent thought. He was gentle with her and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him. God, he smelt nice. She wondered vaguely whether he could feel her pulse thundering in her neck, and was it her imagination or was he holding onto her a little longer than needed?

He eventually released her and Tokyo squared up to her, but Raquel was too busy swooning over being in Sergio’s arms to notice the dangerous glint in the other woman’s eye. She had barely lifted her arm to point it in Tokyo’s direction when the younger woman grabbed it and yanked her roughly around. Pain shot up Raquel’s shoulder as her arm was forced upwards far more than necessary, but before she could react Tokyo’s other arm closed around her throat and squeezed hard enough to cut off her air supply. _What the hell_?! Raquel’s hands came up to scrabble at the arm and then Tokyo’s voice was in her ear, soft enough so that no-one could overhear. “Back off from Rio, Grandma, or I’ll break your fucking neck,” she hissed, and that really pissed Raquel off.   
Instinct took over and she jutted her hips back and up so that Tokyo’s feet lifted off the ground and she lost any leverage she had. Raquel bent down and forward with all the force she could muster, holding onto the arm that was clamped around her neck, and Tokyo came flying over and landed on the mat in front of her with a thud. Raquel relished the stunned expression on her assailant’s face as she leant down with a knee on Toyo’s chest, pinning her to the ground as she murmured just as softly, “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in your boy-toy in the least.” She got up and held out her hand to Tokyo as laughter, cheers and whistles echoed around them from the others, and the younger woman’s eyes filled with fury and humiliation. She slapped the hand away and sprang to her feet, going for Raquel with real intent. And then all bets were off.

The two women grappled with each other and Raquel managed to get in a slap before Tokyo closed the distance between them, teeth bared. Raquel was vaguely aware of people yelling and of hands trying to pull them apart, but she resisted. She was giving as good as she got and it was as satisfying a way as any other to release the tension she had been living with for weeks now. Tokyo threw a punch which Raquel managed to half-evade, but it still caught her on the ear hard enough to sting.  
“Enough!”  
The Professor’s voice broke through the red mist that had descended on Raquel, and she stopped and turned towards him just as Tokyo threw another punch that caught her flush on the nose. “Argh! Fuck,” she exclaimed and clamped a hand over her nose as blood began to stream from it.  
The sight of the blood brought Tokyo to her senses and her eyes widened. “Oh, shit, sorry,” she said, suddenly contrite, but Raquel merely glared at her and turned away. She was aware of the Professor’s gaze on her and belatedly realised that she might just have made a grave error in judgement. Why would a safe-cracker know the self-defence move she had just used on Tokyo? A move that she had been taught by the Police instructors? She might have ruined everything she had worked for by losing control like that, and she needed to get away from them, and from _him_ in particular, and figure out what the hell to do next.  
“Lisbon, are you all right?” She felt the Professor’s hand on her arm but she shook it off and walked out, avoiding eye contact. She went to the bathroom to stem the bleeding and to clean herself up, then she retreated to her room and settled on the windowsill once more to think things through. As she stared out over the landscape and watched the sun slide towards the horizon, a tremendous weariness settled over her. For a minute there she had lost all awareness of where she was, what she was doing and more importantly, _why_ she was doing it. For Paula. Her daughter’s face came to her mind and she sniffled, wondering whether she had just condemned Paula to a life filled with violence. Her dark thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on her door and she took a steadying breath before calling out, “Come in.”

Sergio entered and halted just inside the door, uncertain whether his presence was welcome or not. He studied her as she sat huddled on the windowsill, arms around her knees. The fact that she had so easily subdued Tokyo had given him pause – where had she learnt to defend herself like that? He had come here, his mind full of questions, but once he saw her they all evaporated. She looked thoroughly miserable and he felt terrible. This was his fault; he should not have let them practice on each other. The sun was setting behind her and the rays of the sun caught the highlights in her hair and turned it into a golden halo, and he swallowed against a sudden rush of longing that flooded his chest. It had been like this almost from the first time he had laid eyes on her; this attraction that he tried valiantly to fight but that he now knew was a losing battle. She was irresistible; beautiful, smart and compassionate, and the mere sound of her voice could make him forget everything but her. It had surprised and overwhelmed him, the effect she had on him – he who had always been so sure that feelings could be controlled and caged by his superior intellect. But he knew as he stood in the middle of her room and gazed at her, that he had been wrong. He could not control his feelings for her no matter how hard he tried. He was already lost in her, and they had not even kissed or embraced. It was a frightening thought.

She turned her head towards him – probably wondering why the idiot was just standing there, gawping at her, and he cleared his throat.  
“How’s your nose?”  
She looked back out the window again. “Fine.” She could feel her heart thud in her ears – did he suspect that she was not what she claimed to be? Perhaps a pre-emptive strike was called for. “Luckily I took some self-defence classes once my husband became violent, or the damage may have been worse.”  
 _Ah, so that explained it_. Relief washed over Sergio and he remained rooted to the spot, uncertain what to say or do to comfort her.  
When he didn’t respond she wondered whether his silence was due to suspicion or reproach, and wilfully chose to interpret it as the latter. She sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” she apologised, and there was an anxiety behind the words that baffled him.  
“I told Tokyo that if the two of you cannot get along, then one of you will have to leave,” he began. “I can’t afford such tensions, not when you are going to be closed in together in the Mint for ten days.”  
She dropped her gaze and smiled bitterly – what she had feared most was becoming reality. He might not harbour any suspicions about her, but he was about to chuck her out all the same and she would lose her opportunity to get her family out of Spain. She couldn’t blame him – she understood that for him the Plan was more important than everything else, including her and anything that might have been developing between them. “I thought you’d say that,” she said at last, tracing the crease in her trousers absently with a thumb, and he tilted his head in confusion. She sounded endlessly tired and sad. She continued, “And I can see that you would rather keep your sledgehammer than the safe-cracker you had not wanted in the first place.”  
And finally he understood. She was under the impression that he was about to ask her to leave. “Raquel-“ he said, forgetting to use her code-name in his urgency to set her straight, but she overrode him.  
“Before you say what you came to say,” she forged on, looking up to meet his eyes again, “I want you to know that I would really like to stay. To be a part of this. For my daughter’s sake.” She held his gaze, her chin up, facing the music with touching bravery, and his admiration for her ratcheted up yet another notch. She was magnificent. And perhaps that was why he said what he did next.

He walked over until he stood right in front of her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Is that the only reason you want to stay?” he asked, his voice hoarse with want and the words heavy with a hidden meaning. He held his breath; nothing in the world mattered more to him than her response. Not even the heist he had spent his whole life planning.  
She stared at him, caught off-guard, but once she had processed the words and the meaning behind them she searched his face with an urgency that made his heart beat faster, and he could have sworn that he saw the same want in the depths of her eyes. And once again she displayed that bravery that he so admired – she acted where he couldn’t.  
“No,” she said as she rose to her feet, “it’s not the only reason,” before she reached up and kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his, and he closed his eyes and savoured it. There was not a single cautionary thought in his mind, not the slightest fear or urge to run away. There was only her and the softness of her lips. She pulled back and searched his face again, and he felt naked under her gaze, as though she could read his every thought. He didn’t care in the least; he wanted her to read him right then, as he was struck dumb by the kiss and unable to articulate his desire. But then she kissed him again and he suddenly came to life. _Yes_. He framed her face as he deepened the kiss and was elated when her arms wound around his neck and her fingers ran through his hair. And when he darted out his tongue and probed her mouth, she moaned in approval and let him in. They kissed ardently, lost in each other, until she drew back when the last shred of rational thought reminded her that they were not alone in this house.  
“The others?” she gasped, breathless from the kiss, and he impatiently shook his head and pulled her close again.  
“I sent them to the shooting range – they’ll be gone for at least an hour.” The last words were muttered against her lips as he sought out her mouth once more; he couldn’t stand to be separated from her lips for more than a few seconds and she reciprocated enthusiastically. Oh, God, this felt so right, so natural, and he was amazed by it, by her, by himself. How could she ever have thought that he would ask her to leave? The thought brought him up short and this time it was he who broke the kiss.  
“I want you to know that I wasn’t going to ask you to leave. I could never-“ he began, but she pulled his head back down to hers before he could finish.  
“Yes. Good,” she said before fusing their lips together once more, and it was with a struggle that he separated them to speak again.  
“Raquel,” he said, deliberately using her real name as he began to pull off his jacket, and a blinding smile spread across her face as she understood him perfectly.  
“ _Sergio_.”  
It was the point of no return for both of them. The Professor and Lisbon would not intrude in this moment of intimacy. Her hands vied with his to remove his tie and unbutton his shirt, until he abandoned his efforts in order to pick her up and carry her to the bed.

He fell back onto it somewhat gracelessly with Raquel on top of him, and they laughed together before resuming to kiss amid clumsy attempts to remove each other’s clothes. He ran his hands over every inch of skin he managed to expose, marvelling at its silkiness, and she grinded her hips against his growing erection in response, rendering him senseless. When he finally managed to fumble open the clasp of her bra and pull it off, she sat up and watched his face as he cupped first one and then both breasts gently in his hands. She leant into his touch, allowing their weight to settle in his palms and he gulped, overcome by how perfectly they fit. She smiled at his expression, running a hand through his hair with unexpected tenderness, and they gazed at each other wordlessly, savouring the moment. When he rubbed a thumb over her hardened nipple she gasped and her head tipped back, her eyes darkening with arousal, but she never broke eye contact. It made the whole experience somehow more intimate, as though she wanted to connect her soul to his, and it increased his desire tenfold. _This_ was what had been missing from the few physical relationships he’d had - this connection, and he knew from the first moment that she took him inside her that this was it; this was what being in love felt like. And when she began to lose control and ripped the glasses from his face as she rode him with abandon, it was as though she removed the last of the defences that he had built around his heart along with it and took up residence in there permanently.

Afterwards they snuggled together on the narrow single mattress, and he could not believe how indescribably happy he felt. Like he was floating on clouds, or had just solved the biggest mystery of the universe. He was positively giddy and clutched her to his side as he ran strands of her hair through his fingers. She seemed equally affected, nestling her head in the crook of his neck, but shifting every now and then so she could rub her nose against his beard. Her hand came up periodically to caress his face and each time it did he would turn his head and kiss her – he couldn’t get enough. He was like a man in the desert, thirsting for water, who had finally found his oasis. Eventually she sighed and gently pushed against his chest. “You better go – the others will be back soon.”  
Sergio sighed as well and squeezed her tight one last time, rubbing his cheek against her forehead. “We go for vault door practice again in two days’ time,” he said, and she pulled his head down and kissed him deeply.  
“Until then,” she murmured once they parted, and he reluctantly disentangled from her and got up.  
She stayed under the sheet and watched him as he dressed, languid in the aftermath of the sex, and he reddened in embarrassment as her eyes traced over his naked body. She noticed. “Hey.” He lifted his eyes to hers and she held out a hand. “Come here.”  
He shuffled closer until she could run a hand over his stomach and down until her fingers closed around his now flaccid shaft and fondled him. Her gaze held his captive whilst she did this, and all he saw in it was admiration and desire. No words were necessary and he leant down to kiss her one more time as he took hold of her wrist and stilled her hand.  
“If you don’t stop that I’ll never leave,” he smiled, and was surprised to see shadows gather in her eyes. Oh, shit. Had he gone too far?  
But she said, “It’s going to be a long two days until I get to do this again,” and he relaxed – she obviously couldn’t wait to repeat the experience either. When he walked out of her room a few minutes later, he was grinning like an idiot. Yes, it was going to be the longest two days of his life.

Once he had left Raquel lay back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow. She determinedly banished any thoughts but him and what they’d just done. It had been the best sex of her life as far as she was concerned, and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she replayed it in her mind, her fingers unconsciously toying with a nipple as she did so. He had been really good; his stamina was impressive and he had held out longer than Alberto ever did, making sure of her pleasure before he allowed his own release. She couldn’t remember any other lover ever being as solicitous of her needs, or being more present during the act. Like her, he had held eye contact right until he came, letting her see into his soul. Because of all these factors she had meant what she said to him – it was going to be an interminable two days before she got to touch him again. As her hand drifted lower she marvelled at how in tune they were – there didn’t even have to be a discussion for them both to understand that this was something personal - something separate from the heist and the Professor and Lisbon, and that they would restrict any further physical intimacy to those visits to the other safe house. Her fingers reached their goal and she moaned, closing her eyes and picturing him once more, pinned between her thighs, his chest glistening with sweat, his abdominal muscles contracting as he strove to bury himself as deep as possible inside her. She was still incredibly keyed up and it didn’t take much to push her over the edge once more, and as she tumbled she was vaguely aware of a blinking red light in the far reaches of her consciousness, trying to warn her that she was in danger of falling over another, far more dangerous edge than the physical one she had just succumbed to, but it was washed away on the wave of her orgasm before she could grasp hold of it.

_tbc_


	6. Warning

_But who among us is perfect? Even the greatest strategists have their eclipses, and the greatest blunders, like the thickest ropes, are often compounded of a multitude of strands. Take the rope apart, separate it into the small threads that compose it, and you can break them one by one. You think, ‘That is all there was!’ But twist them all together and you have something tremendous.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

_Next day  
_ _Heist training camp  
_ _Toledo  
_ Raquel was very good at compartmentalisation – she had to be in order to survive two years of deep undercover work. But during Operation Midnight, cocooned away in the Spanish countryside with a bunch of thieves, she surpassed even her own expectations in this regard. This time, she managed to compartmentalise even her own thoughts. Never before had she so completely lost herself inside her legend that she didn’t allow her thoughts to stray to that other, hidden identity. But she managed just that in the two days that followed her tryst with Sergio. Perhaps it should have worried her, this ability to lead such completely separate dual lives, but she didn’t allow herself to think about that either. In the aftermath of their assignation she simply ceased to think about Raquel Murillo, undercover Police officer. She became completely immersed in Raquel Mercedes, a.k.a Lisbon, the safe-cracker who was taking part in this heist to make enough money to finance a new life for her family. A life where they would be safe from the threat of her abusive ex-husband. And in doing so she had unexpectedly made a connection with the brilliant leader of the gang, Sergio, a.k.a the Professor. It was as though that other personality had ceased to exist, so that there could be no thoughts about betrayal or about sleeping with the enemy.

The next day she went to make peace with Tokyo. She found her and Nairobi in the kitchen and entered cautiously. Tokyo was unpredictable and she wasn’t sure what to expect, but when the younger woman turned and looked at her with a neutral expression she moved closer to them.  
“How’s the nose?” Nairobi asked and Raquel shrugged.  
“It’s okay.” Tokyo seemed relieved to hear that so Raquel pressed on, addressing her adversary directly. “I understand you also got a dressing down from the Professor?”  
“Yeah,” Tokyo grimaced. “He was really mad.” The two women smiled together over their shared occupation of the shithouse. “What’d he say to you?” Tokyo probed and Raquel sighed.  
“He said if we can’t get along one of us would have to leave.” She tried her best to look depressed – to look like she believed the threat and not like the woman who had then proceeded to have mind-blowing sex with their leader. “And to be honest I got the impression he meant _I_ would have to leave,” she lied smoothly. Tokyo raised an eyebrow so Raquel continued. “And I need this,” she said, looking down at her hands, then up again to eye them defiantly. “Because I have a daughter, and I need the money to get her out of the country and away from my abusive ex-husband.”  
Both women stared at her, processing this unexpected personal revelation, and then Tokyo rolled her eyes and smiled. “Oh God, another one who’s in this for their kid,” she said good-naturedly to Nairobi before sticking out a hand to Raquel. “Bygones?” she offered, and Raquel gratefully accepted the proffered hand.  
“Bygones,” she agreed. To her relief Tokyo was apparently as quick to forgive as she was to anger. Or perhaps she finally believed that Raquel had no interest in Rio. Whatever the reason, Raquel would take it.  
“Excellent,” Nairobi exclaimed, “the three of us can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves – we need to stand together against the unbearable patriarchy of our comrades-in-arms,” she proclaimed, causing the other two women to laugh.

_One day later  
_ Sergio and Raquel were circumspect after that afternoon together, going about their activities in the Toledo house as though nothing momentous had occurred between them. There were no inadvertent touches, no gazing into each other’s eyes, no in-jokes or attempts to test the control of the other in front of their companions. And because of that the others never suspected, not even Berlin, who knew them both better than most. But once they got in the car and drove through the gates of the estate it fell away along with their code-names, and then they couldn’t stop the inadvertent touches and the gazing even if they tried. As soon as the Toledo house disappeared in the dust behind them her hand found its way to his thigh, and only moved from that position to burrow into the hair curling around his collar when he smiled at her or made a particularly witty comment. She was tingling with anticipation, and it took tremendous restraint not to take things too far whilst he was driving. The thought that she would feel his skin against hers again, would be able to impale herself on his hard length once more was driving her to distraction and she could feel the wetness of arousal already soaking her underwear. And she knew it was the same for him, this eager impatience to be intimate; it was advertised in the clench of his jaw and the growing bulge in his trousers.

And thus it was; they barely made it through the door of the second safe house before they jumped each other. Her hands were loosening his belt as soon as it slammed shut behind them, and his raked up the dress she had wisely chosen to wear for the occasion. He cupped her as soon as the dress was out of the way and his eyes darkened with a feral look when he felt the dampness already there. She had managed to free his cock in the meantime and it rose up proudly, making her mouth water. One day soon she would like to taste him, but not today. Today she needed to feel him come inside her. They managed to stumble through to the lounge and he lifted her onto the dinner table in the corner whilst she kissed him feverishly and made a mess of his hair, and then she felt the head of his cock prodding at her entrance through the barrier of her panty.  
“Fuck. Just-“ she gasped, and his hand joined hers in pulling it to the side so that he could push inside.  
A soft ‘ah’ escaped her and their eyes locked together as she bucked eagerly against him.  
“Raquel,” he breathed and she smiled, delighted that she could make him lose control so completely.  
“Hard,” she half-ordered, half-requested and he didn’t need to be asked twice. He gripped her hips and pounded into her, and she grabbed hold of his neck for leverage and reciprocated as best she could. An exquisite ecstasy overwhelmed her senses and she came after only a couple of minutes, her mouth opening in a silent scream as it hovered inches from his. The force of her orgasm pulled him over the edge with her and she clung to him as they rode out the tremors locked together, his face buried in her hair. When they came back to their senses he pulled back to stare at her, his expression stunned. He had never experienced anything like that and he laughed in disbelief at the sheer joy of it. She joined in, her fingers raking through his beard in an unguarded gesture of affection, before she leant in to kiss him.  
“That was…” he offered rather inarticulately, resting his forehead against hers, and she laughed again.  
“Yes, it was.” _The fuck of the century_ , her brain supplied, high on endorphins, and she kissed him again to prevent herself from saying it out loud.

Gradually they became aware of the state they were in – his trousers pooled around his ankles, her dress bunched up around her middle, and for the rest still fully clothed, and he shook his head in wonder. He never knew himself capable of such impulsiveness, such unbridled passion, and the fact that it had been unhesitatingly reciprocated… He looked at her as they straightened themselves out, noting the happy smile that did not leave her face and the blush of arousal still heightening her colour. He was the cause of that, and his heart swelled at the thought. He’d never suspected that causing someone else joy could be such an aphrodisiac. She combed her fingers through her hair and his gaze followed ardently. God, she was beautiful, and one of these days he was going to tell her that.

He left her to talk to her family and busied himself in the kitchen, making them sandwiches – he was starving after that energetic start to the afternoon, and after they had eaten they made love again, this time on the double bed in the master bedroom of the house. Once they had undressed each other she pulled him on top of her and he settled between her legs as they moved together slowly. She liked the feeling of his weight on her, as though he anchored her, and she found herself telling him that. He smiled; the broad unfettered smile that made him look like a little boy and that she loved so much-  
 _Oh, shit._ Panic momentarily flooded her but she swiftly suppressed it. _No. No doubts now, no guilt, no fear. Those things do not exist in the safe-cracker’s life.  
_ He rested on his elbows and framed her face with both hands, and she looked up into his eyes. “Sergio,” she murmured, overcome, firmly closing the door on those other thoughts as she tilted her hips to take him in deeper, and his thumb traced the laugh-lines at the corner of her eye.  
“You’re perfect,” he blurted, and her eyes widened in surprise before her lips quirked.  
“Hmm, I think you need to put those glasses back on,” she teased. “I’m forty years old – no-one that age is perfect.” Her hand smoothed down his flank and over his hip until it reached the dome of his buttock, where it stayed to squeeze in rhythm with his thrusts.  
He shook his head. “Well, you’re the exception, then,” he persisted stubbornly before his head dipped to kiss the freckles on her chest, and her free hand came up to burrow into his hair. “This freckle is perfect,” he enthused, kissing it, “and this one, and this one…” On he went and she laughed, delighted, and he lifted his head and grinned at her. He loved making her laugh. It was so easy to be like this with her, to be this effusive and demonstrative, and he decided not to question it but to simply go with it. “And then there are these perfect laugh lines,” he continued, kissing the corner of her mouth and her nose crinkled as his beard tickled it, “and these ones,” a kiss to the corner of her eye, “not to mention this perfect nose-stud,” followed by a kiss to the tip of her nose, until her hands gripped his head so that she could look him in the eye.  
“There’s no need to exaggerate – you’ve already won me over,” she chided, but he could see that she was pleased.  
“No, it’s true,” he insisted, speeding up, and then there was no more talking.

And so the pattern was established for the weeks and months that followed – life continued as usual in the Toledo house, interspersed with afternoons of joyous intercourse in this second safe house a few times a week. Lisbon and the Professor were never allowed to intrude on these interludes. And unbeknownst to Sergio, neither was Inspector Murillo. It was the epitome of living in an artificial bubble, of wilfully ignoring anything that might spoil the bliss they found in each other’s arms. Sergio never allowed himself to contemplate the consequences of so comprehensively breaking his own rules, and Raquel refused to acknowledge that she had already planted the seeds that would destroy their happiness. It was unrealistic and unsustainable, but they both stubbornly buried their heads in the sand; they simply lived in the moment and enjoyed each other.

_Three months later  
_ Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and before Sergio had fully realised what was happening three months had passed. The happiest three months of his life, in which his brainchild, his life’s work, was coming ever closer to fruition, and in which he finally experienced what it felt like to be in love with another person. Who would ever have predicted that he would lose his heart in the middle of his heist, and that to someone he had been reluctant to bring on board? He often thought about it, marvelling at the confluence of events that brought him and Raquel together and thanking his lucky stars for them. For the first time he understood what his brother had been on about, when he’d told Sergio that he was living without enjoyment. How could he have known how much joy being in love would bring into his life? But as he prepared to brief the gang on the details of the escape plan, he was reminded that this seclusion from the world was about to come to an end soon, and he couldn’t help but fret whether his relationship with Raquel would survive past it. They had never talked about the future and now that seemed like an oversight; he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but what if she didn’t feel the same? What if this was nothing more than a diversion for her – a way to pass the time until she could reunite with her family? His throat closed up at the prospect and he sat down, suddenly dizzy. _No. Surely not_. Surely no-one could fake the adoration that shone from her eyes when she gazed at him as they made love? He breathed deeply, mollified, but still the doubts lingered. He knew that the uncertainty would drive him crazy, and he could not afford any distractions now that the zero hour was so close. There was no other choice than to ask her, and he resolved to do it that afternoon when they went to the other safe house.

Her laugh echoed through the classroom and he looked up to see her enter, enjoying a joke with Helsinki, and he smiled despite himself. She had a wonderfully infectious laugh and nothing would make him happier than hearing it for the rest of his life. She caught his eye and her smile widened a fraction, the only outward sign of how pleased she was to see him, and he marvelled once more at how good she was at the secret relationship business. They had been sleeping together for three months now and she had not slipped up once. She was easily his equal in subterfuge, and the knowledge pleased him. They made a formidable team.

Helsinki’s broken Spanish made the joke he told her all the funnier, and Raquel was still chuckling as she caught Sergio’s eye and her smile widened almost imperceptibly. Only a few more hours before she would get to kiss him again, undress him, take him inside her. But for now she was Lisbon and he was the Professor, and there would be no lascivious thoughts allowed. She basked in her happy glow as the others trickled into the class until her eye caught the word he had written on the blackboard – escape – and her bliss evaporated like mist before the sun. _It was going to end soon_. The thought hit her like a sledgehammer, and her heart fell into the pit of her stomach. All of this – the camaraderie with this bunch of thieves, the stolen hours with Sergio, was going to end. In a few weeks they would enter the Royal Mint and the whole thing would blow up in their faces. Because of her. Because she had done her duty as a Police officer. She could no longer deceive herself that _this_ was the real world, that she was Raquel Mercedes, safe-cracker, and that she had any chance of living happily ever after with Sergio, the criminal mastermind whom she had so joyfully been intimate with these last few months. She was Raquel Murillo, undercover Police officer, who was here to keep her daughter safe and to do a job, and he was the Professor, a man that planned to take a bunch of people hostage and who hated the Police. She could no longer postpone the inevitable. It was time to put the final touches on her plan, and to do that she would have to persuade the Professor to let her see her daughter one more time before they went inside. So before she joined him in the car that afternoon, she went to her room and slipped the small pistol she had secreted behind the bedside cupboard into her bag. Just in case.

Sergio glanced at her a few times as they drove to the other safe house. Was it his imagination, or was she somewhat subdued? Somewhat withdrawn? Her hand still came to rest on his thigh as soon as they left Toledo and once, when he turned to smile at her, he caught her staring at it with a troubled expression. Or was that simply his nerves making him see things? Because he _was_ nervous – really nervous. He planned to ask her to join him in Palawan after the heist, and the thought of exposing himself to possible heartbreak if she said no terrified him. Because it _would_ break his heart, and that was an emotion he last felt when his father had died. He had no desire to relive the experience.  
Eventually she roused herself and spoke. “Uhm, Sergio? I don’t want to put you in a difficult position, but I have a favour to ask.”  
“Yes?”  
“Could I visit my family one more time, before we go in?” she asked, and he thought he understood the reason for her mood then. She was going to risk her life by taking part in the heist, so obviously she wanted to see her daughter before she did so. In case things went wrong and she- He hastily suppressed that thought. _Nothing would go wrong, and no-one was going to die_. He felt bad; he should have thought of this – should have offered before she had to ask. God, he really didn’t know what he was doing with this relationship stuff.  
“Yes, of course,” he hastened to say, “let’s do it next week.”  
She smiled at him gratefully and once again it appeared strained, but before he could think about that she leant over and kissed him on the cheek, and he forgot about these doubts.

She reached for him as soon as they were inside the house, kissing him urgently as she backed him towards the living room until his legs hit the couch and he sat down. Raquel stood, looking down at him, her hair falling over her shoulders, and then she sank to her knees between his legs and reached for his belt. It took him a moment to realise what was happening, and he tried to still her fingers. “You don’t have to-“ he began, but she batted his hands away and released him from the confines of his trousers.  
“I want to,” she said, taking him in hand and stroking him expertly, and his body immediately began to respond to her ministrations. As he stiffened under her touch she smiled up at him, and he leant down to kiss her, overwhelmed that she would do this for him. Once he was hard she broke the kiss and went down on him, and he groaned as soon as the wetness of her mouth enveloped him.  
“Oh, fuck…” It was the last coherent thought he mustered. He hooked her hair out of the way and cradled the back of her head as he stared, bewitched, at the way his cock disappeared in and out between her lips. She glanced up at him and grinned as she swirled her tongue around the head and it took everything he had not to buck into her mouth. Within minutes he was in sweet agony, his release building up like an uncontrollable wave, and he tried desperately to tell her. “Raquel, wait, I’m going to-“ he gasped but she only sped up, keeping going until he came hard.

When he returned to earth she was sitting next to him, cleaning him up with a cloth. She noticed his eyes were open and smiled.  
“Did you enjoy that?”  
He scoffed, lifting a hand to caress her cheek. “Do you even have to ask?” His voice was hoarse and she cocked a teasing eyebrow, enjoying the effect she had had on him. It spurred him into action. She squealed in surprise as he grabbed her and flipped her onto her back. “I think it’s time I reciprocated, don’t you?” he said as he quickly stripped her jeans and underwear off. As he knelt down and lifted her legs over his shoulders a blush of arousal had already begun to spread across her chest and he set to work, eager to give her the same pleasure she had bestowed on him. Raquel lay back and gave herself over to the sensations, but this time she could not silence the accusing voice at the back of her mind that reminded her, over and over: _this is the man you are supposed to arrest_ , but because his head was buried between her thighs he did not see the tear that escaped from her tightly shut eyes. She knew, then, that her decision to go down on him was because she couldn’t bear to look him in the eye as they made love now that she could no longer lie to herself, now that she had once again allowed the Police officer to come to the fore. Christ. What was she going to do?

_Twenty minutes later  
_ As she sat in front of the laptop and talked to her family she could hear him whistling happily to himself in the kitchen, and it increased the weight on her shoulders tenfold. She was distracted during the conversation and she knew that her mother had noticed when the older woman said after a while, “Paula, sweetheart, why don’t you go get ready for dinner? Your Mama and I still have a few things to discuss.”  
Raquel smiled and blew her daughter a kiss, wishing more than ever that she was home right now and that she could embrace her girl.  
“So, what’s up?” Marivi asked as soon as they were alone. “You look unhappy for the first time in three months.”  
Raquel glanced at the door but Sergio was still in the kitchen and out of earshot. “I have to do something terrible, Mama,” she confessed, feeling tears threatening and swallowing against them.  
Marivi tilted her head. “Does this have anything to do with whoever has put that radiant smile on your face?”  
Raquel stared at her mother, shocked. “What- what are you talking about?”  
“Oh, my child,” Marivi sighed. “Ever since the divorce you’ve been… Well, you’ve only seen the dark side of things. But since you’ve gone away you’ve been different. Happy. As though you’re seeing the different colours of the world again.” Tears began to slip down Raquel’s cheeks as her mother smiled and leant towards the screen. “So, who is he?”  
The younger Murillo sniffled, then laughed. It was no use denying it, her mother knew her too well. “Sergio. His name is Sergio, Mama,” she divulged and her mother clapped her hands together in glee.  
“Well then, darling, if he makes you so happy nothing else matters, does it?”  
Raquel sobered. “I have to do something, for my job, and I think it’s going to ruin everything,” she confessed softly, and Marivi shook her head impatiently.  
“Then don’t do it.”  
Raquel rolled her eyes and sighed, “Mama-“ but her mother interrupted.  
“To hell with your job, Raquel,” she said rather heatedly. “Is your job going to hold you at night? No. Is it making you as happy as this Sergio? _No_. So don’t let it ruin your life, okay?”  
Her ear caught a footfall in the corridor and she hurriedly said, “Look, I have to go. I love you.” She quickly hit the disconnect button and Marivi’s protesting face disappeared from the screen as Sergio appeared in the door.  
“I’ve made sandwiches,” he announced, and she unobtrusively wiped any trace of the tears from her cheeks before turning to him with as bright a smile as she could manage.  
But as she followed him to the table she made sure to take her bag with her.

As she sat down she noticed the bottle of wine and lifted her eyes to his in surprise. “Wine as well? What’s the occasion?”  
He poured her a glass before taking the seat opposite her. Then he took something from his pocket and pushed it across the table, and she noticed for the first time how nervous he looked. It was a postcard, and she picked it up to study it. The word ‘Palawan’ was printed in the bottom corner, and it depicted an idyllic beach scene. She flipped it over but there was nothing on the back, and she met his eyes again, frowning.  
“Sergio?”  
He cleared his throat, took a breath, and plunged over the edge. “It’s in the Philippines. How would you like to go and live there after the heist? With, uhm, with me?”  
Raquel stared at him, then down again at the card, trying to process what was happening. “With you?” she repeated faintly, and fear gripped him.  
 _She doesn’t want to_ , his brain supplied, but his heart tried to block it out.  
“You want to live with me? After the heist?” she said again, and he saw both hope and despair in her eyes. He didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on. He didn’t trust his voice so he merely nodded, and she looked at the card again, overwhelmed. She closed her eyes briefly and the bottom threatened to drop out of his world. _She was going to say no_. But instead she said disbelievingly, “I have a daughter and a sick mother – you’d cross the ocean with a child, a mother and a grandmother in tow?” and he regained some of his equilibrium. She was only hesitating because she doubted whether he knew what he was getting himself into.  
“Right now I would,” he said with a laugh, but she didn’t join in and he reached across the table to grab her hand. “Raquel,” he implored, and he’d never been more serious in his life, “I don’t want to ignore this desire to feel alive that I’ve never felt this strongly, with you. So once we’re done with the heist, let’s go. We take your mother and your daughter, and we go. To Palawan.”

She stared into his eyes and could see that he meant every word. _He wanted to be with her_. But that wasn’t really true, was it? He wanted to be with Raquel Mercedes, safe-cracker and thief. Not Raquel Murillo, undercover Police officer. She had deceived him and now there was no way out – no way in which this could end well. And suddenly she couldn’t take it anymore. She jumped up and began to pace, her hand pressed to her mouth. As she did so she could see the panic rise in his eyes and knew that he had misunderstood. So she said, “It’s so crazy, that I want nothing more than to do just that.” She came to a standstill and turned to face him, to face the music head-on. The next words out of her mouth were some of the most difficult she’d ever had to utter. “…But I can’t.”  
He frowned, trying to follow her ramblings. “Why not?”  
“Because-” She stopped, visions of him being arrested or, even worse, being shot, assaulting her senses and before she knew what she was doing she implored in a desperate voice, “Don’t go through with the heist. Walk away now. Please, Sergio.”  
His frown deepened and he half-shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why would I do that?”  
She stood before him, guilt written across her face, tears pooling in her eyes. “Because the Police know about it,” she said quietly, and the look of horror on his face nearly killed her. She could see him put the pieces together, see him remember every doubt he’d had about her and had ignored, and when he spoke again there was a chilling edge to his voice that scared her.  
“How? How do they know?”

And there it was, the end of everything. Once she uttered the words there would be no more joy, no more hope of a future together. He would hate her for what she’d done. For a brief, mad moment she considered saying nothing at all, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came to her. There would be no more lying. She owed him that much. So she told him the truth.  
“…I told them.”

_tbc_


	7. Betrayed

_His whole life was now summed up in two words: absolute uncertainty, within an impenetrable fog.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

_Alternate safe house  
_ _Late afternoon  
_ Sergio’s world shattered. As soon as she uttered the words, he knew with a sickening certainty that it was true. And it had been there in front of his eyes the whole time. He had sensed that something was off and he had ignored it, blinded by his attraction to her. He squeezed his eyes shut and all those afternoons in this house projected onto his eyelids in lurid detail, mocking him. _Fool. She played you_. And then the anger came. His eyes shot open and he pinned her in his glare, and she swallowed but stood her ground, watching him apprehensively.  
“Martin didn’t screw up on that last job with my brother, did he?” he demanded icily. “You snitched on them and that’s why things went wrong.” He got up and swung away, a hand rubbing his forehead. “Christ. I can’t believe it. An _informant_.” He turned back to her, his anger swiftly building to a level he had never experienced before. “Does Micky Fuentes know that you’re a snitch?”  
She bristled. “I’m not.”  
“No? What would _you_ call it then? Selling others out to the cops?”  
“That’s not-“  
“How much are they paying you, huh? Is it fucking more than the millions you stand to make from this heist?!”  
“I’m not a snitch!” she reiterated forcefully, and he stared at her uncomprehendingly. The only alternative was even more horrible to contemplate. _No. She couldn’t be._ Anything but _that_.  
“Who are you?” he asked, petrified of the answer, not knowing what he would do if his worst fears were confirmed. And then they were.  
“My name is Raquel Murillo,” she said, sounding endlessly weary, “and I am an Inspector in the Police force. I was simply doing my job.”

The colour drained from Sergio’s face and Raquel eyed him warily. There was a certain relief in finally admitting the truth, but not unsurprisingly he did not seem to share that feeling. She had never seen him this angry and for a bleak second she feared that he would strike out at her, before she remembered that this was not Alberto. She knew with every fibre of her body that Sergio was not a violent man, but her gaze nonetheless strayed towards her bag where the gun was. Could she get to it in time if necessary? She dismissed the thought almost immediately. That would only escalate the tension to an even more dangerous level. She was a trained negotiator; if ever there was a need for those skills, that time was now. If only she had a pencil. She risked taking a step towards him. “Sergio-“ she began, but he held up a warning hand and backed away from her.  
“Are you wearing a wire?” His eyes went to her bag. “Or is it in there?” A look of devastation crossed his face. “Have your colleagues been listening to you fucking me and laughing at the stupid idiot being led around by his dick?”  
Her eyes widened in horror. “No!” She took a breath, trying to stay calm. “No,” she repeated in a lower tone, “there is no wire. There never has been. No-one has been listening. I would never-“  
“Save it, _Inspector_.” He snatched up the bag and tipped the contents onto the table, and they both froze as the gun clattered out, slid over the polished wood and lay there pointing like an accusing finger in her direction.

His gaze snapped to her, then he grabbed it and pointed it at her. “Do your colleagues know where you are?” he demanded, cocking the gun as he did so, and she stopped breathing.  
She should say yes – claim that they are about to burst through the door and that his best option was to leave her there, to get out himself and escape. But she couldn’t. She was done lying to him. The realisation hit her like a blow in the chest, and though she had denied it to herself before she now knew for certain – she was in love with him, head-over-heels and irrevocably so, and she would not lie to him again, even if it cost her life. “No,” she admitted, “they don’t know where I am. And they don’t know about the house in Toledo, either,” she added for good measure. He didn’t seem to believe her, and she couldn’t blame him. “Will you let me explain?” she asked, hoping against hope that he might feel a little of what she felt for him, because then she might have a chance. _They_ might have a chance.

Sergio vacillated; he wanted to say yes, but… _Raquel was a Police officer_. He was still struggling to grasp that concept. She had played him all this time and now she was asking for a chance to _explain_?! He should shoot her right now and be done with it – go back and warn the others. But somehow he couldn’t. He kept seeing the adoration in her eyes when they made love; could it have been a lie? Could she have faked that? Those same eyes were now looking at him with desperation, but also something else: remorse, and he made his decision. He would give her an hour. “Don’t move,” he instructed, waving the gun at her, then backed into the living room to collect the long extension cord he had seen there. He never took his eyes off her as he did so and she remained where she was as instructed. When he approached her again with the cord in hand he saw fear flash across her face and despite everything he hated it – hated knowing that she was afraid of him, that she believed him capable of hurting her. “I’m going to tie you up,” he informed her, and threw one end of the cord over a low ceiling beam before binding her wrists above her head. She succumbed without a struggle, not saying a word, but her gaze never left his face. Every time his fingers brushed against her skin he was assaulted by flashes of memory – her nipple in his mouth, her tongue stroking his, her soft hair slipping through his fingers, her lips on his eyelids and her low, sexy voice in his ear – _wake up, sleepyhead_ – when he fell asleep after sex. He shook his head, trying to fight it. She was a _Police officer_ , and she had betrayed them. Had betrayed _him_.

When he was done he stood back and looked at her, this woman who was so familiar, and yet now somehow a stranger.  
“Inspector Raquel Murillo.” He surprised them both by saying her name out loud and she shifted on her feet, trying to find a more comfortable position. She waited him out, so he spoke again. “Why didn’t I pick up your name in the Madrid Police employment register when I researched the possible officers that would be assigned to the heist?”  
“I’ve never worked in Madrid. I was posted to Barcelona once I graduated from the Academy. I was about to be transferred to Madrid as a hostage negotiator when they decided to send me undercover.” He nodded, but she wasn’t done. “Besides, they wiped my record when they earmarked me for undercover work five years ago, so even if I had been working in Madrid you would not have picked it up.”

Five years ago. When Micky Fuentes had been caught on a job down in Barcelona, he now recalled. “So you were the one that caught Miguel Fuentes?” he guessed, and she smiled resignedly.  
“Yes.” How many times had she wished that it had never happened? She wouldn’t be in this mess if it hadn’t been for that.  
“Does that mean your grandfather was never on his crew?” he continued, and she shook her head.  
“No. That’s just part of my legend. None of my family are criminals,” she sniped, and he paused momentarily. Was that how she saw him? A criminal and nothing more?  
“But your mother’s surname is also Fuentes?” A thought came to him and he stared at her, suddenly aware that he had no idea which of the things he thought he knew about her were actually true. “Wait. Is Marivi Fuentes actually your mother, or is she also a part of your _legend_?” He almost spat the last word at her, his anger and hurt palpable, and she began to fear that he would never forgive her for the subterfuge like she so desperately hoped.  
“She really is my mother – I refused to be completely cut off from my family whilst I was undercover so they were worked into my legend. The identical surname was a ‘happy coincidence’, as my superiors put it. There’s no familial relation.”  
“Hmm. So you caught him, and then offered him his freedom in exchange for vouching for you?”  
“It wasn’t that simple.” To his surprise she smiled fondly. “We caught Micky and his crew mid-heist. I was on point and had just entered the basement where he was cracking the safe, when his crew realised we were there. They blew the entrance, trapping Micky and myself inside. Luckily we were both unscathed, but it took them two days to dig us out. He was a sweet old man; I liked him and I guess he liked me too. We had to pass the time somehow, so he ended up teaching me how to crack the safe. It turns out I have a talent for it, and things went from there. I spent two years training with him and getting my legend watertight, and then I went undercover.”

Sergio leant back against the wall as she talked, watching her face intently. “Ah. So you used those feminine wiles on him too,” he said harshly. He couldn’t help it; he wanted to hurt her, to let her feel some of the pain he was going through.  
She flinched, but she did not back down. “No. You don’t understand. Micky was… He called himself an artist. To him it was always more about the challenge of opening a supposedly impenetrable safe than the actual stealing. He would have risked everything to get to a famous safe, even if there was nothing in it.” Her eyes softened as she looked at him. “You’re like him in that respect – you’re idealists rather than thieves. He agreed to vouch for me simply because he saw me as a fellow artist. He didn’t care which side I was on.”  
A silence fell as they watched each other. “You think I’m an idealist?” he asked despite himself, and she nodded solemnly.  
“This heist, your plan – it’s a work of art too, Sergio. I don’t think it’s about the money for you; you’re trying to make a point. It’s about showing a middle finger to the authorities. To defy the system you’ve come to despise – the system that took your father from you all those years ago.”

He turned and walked away, uncomfortable with how well she had read him, but somewhere deep in his heart a tiny flame of joy flickered – she _understood_. And yet she had betrayed him and his work of art. His life’s work. He was so confused. What was he going to do? He glanced at his watch.  
“What exactly have you told them?” He’d already figured out that she could have reported in only that once, when she’d persuaded him to let her go home for the passport photos of her family. Maybe he could still salvage this somehow.  
She did not hesitate. “I told them we’d be training for the heist for five months and that the target is the Royal Mint. I told them about Alison Parker and the school children and that you intend to take hostages to buy time to get the vaults open. And I told them about Silene Oliveira. They already knew about De Fonollosa, of course.”  
“Fuck. You told them about the British Ambassador’s daughter?” This was a disaster; the whole plan hinged on that. There was no way they would get enough time inside without her.  
“Yes.” She was defiant. “That’s the one part I couldn’t justify. You were going to hold _kids_ at gunpoint, Sergio. Tie them up and hold them hostage for ten days. Do you have any idea of the psychological scars that would leave?”  
He looked away, discomfited. “Nobody will be hurt-“  
“Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re not that naïve.” He glared at her but she pushed on. “You’re the smartest man I have ever met, but you’re also the stupidest if you believe that. What the fuck is your sledgehammer for then, huh? To play ring-a-ring-a-rosies with the children? Come on.”

Sergio walked away once more and she stayed quiet, worried that she’d gone too far. But this was important to her. She’d decided there would be no more lying, not to him, and she would stick to it. “Look. I admire you for trying to pull this off without hurting anybody, but I am trained in hostage negotiations and I know from experience how quickly things can go wrong. _You_ might be able to maintain control of a situation at all times because you stay calm under pressure. But you’re not going to be the one in there, who would have to deal with the hostages directly. And no offence, but these other people you have assembled? They’re not exactly the poster children for maturity. I couldn’t allow you to bring actual kids into such an unpredictable scenario.”  
He swung back and pushed his glasses up his nose. “That’s why I put Berlin in charge. He’ll keep the others in line.”  
She snorted. “ _Berlin?_ Jesus, Sergio. If you believe that, then you really are naïve. Your brother nearly shot me on that last job.”  
But Sergio shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t want to listen to any more of this. You’re trying to do to me what you did to Andres and Martin. You spread lies and turn friends, _brothers_ , against each other.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Oh, you’re very good at it, I’ll grant you that. You build sympathy for yourself first and then you break down the others - going so far as to _sleep_ with me, not to mention that sob story about being abused which really had me going-” He stopped talking as the blood drained from her face and her knees buckled. _Oh, shit_. Was that part actually true? Had she really been abused? He felt like a heel.

“Raquel,” he began, contrite, momentarily forgetting his anger and reaching for her, but she pulled away as far as the cord allowed.  
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, her eyes pools of misery. “Don’t you fucking come near me.” Tears began to well up; it was too much. The blows had piled up and this was the last one, the one that finally broke her. “You think I would lie about something like that?! The abuse is the only fucking reason I am in this mess in the first place.”  
“I’m sorry-“  
“My ex is high up in the Police forensics department, and when I laid charges against him they couldn’t send me undercover fast enough. They did it to get me out of the way, so that I couldn’t pursue legal action against him.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks now but she was oblivious to it. “And when my two-year stint was up and I was about to come in, De Fonollosa opened his stupid mouth about your heist and gave them an excuse to keep me out here even longer. They screwed me over, not caring whether they put me in danger by doing so, all because they wanted to protect that piece of shit that beat me.” She finally ran out of breath and hung there, limp and exhausted, and despite her betrayal it moved him.  
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “really sorry that you had to go through something like that.”  
“I don’t want your fucking pity,” she retorted, but the fight had gone out of her voice. Instead it sounded dull and defeated and he couldn’t bear it.  
“Do you, uhm, do you want some water?”  
She nodded, sniffling, trying to rub her tears away on the sleeve of her shirt as best she could, and he left the room with a lot on his mind.

In the kitchen he filled a glass, then leant on the sink and stared out of the window, trying to order his thoughts. What was he going to do? The heist was clearly shot to hell – there was no way it could work without the bargaining chip of the ambassador’s daughter. And Raquel… She had betrayed him and still his first instinct had been to comfort her just now. He had stupidly thought that they had something, something truly special, and had already begun to plan their future together in his head. Hell, he’d even begun looking for a house in Palawan that was big enough for them all – the two of them and her mother and daughter, getting lost in daydreams of how for the first time in his life he would experience being part of a family. But it had been one-sided-  
He straightened as something dawned on him. He had been so caught up in his feelings of betrayal that he hadn’t realised something quite fundamental – she had warned him. _Walk away now_ , she’d said. _Please, Sergio_. Hope sparked in his treacherous heart despite his head’s best efforts to douse it, and he slowly walked back to her.

Raquel lifted her head as he approached and held the glass to her lips. She drank gratefully and he was relieved to see some of the colour had returned to her face.  
“Thanks,” she murmured when she was done and he set the glass on the table.  
“Why do you continue to do their bidding, if all they do in return is screw you over?” he asked, and she scoffed and bit her lip.  
“I ask myself that same question at least once a day,” she confessed and his heart began to beat faster. He tilted his head, trying to read her.  
“Have you told them how we plan to get inside?”  
“No.”  
“Or that we intend to stay inside for ten days to print our own money?”  
“No.”  
He took a breath. “Have you told them my name? Given them a description of me?”  
She looked him in the eye. “ _No_.”  
He believed her. “Why not, Raquel?”  
Her eyes slid away from his and she pressed her lips together, trying to control her emotions. “Because you were kind to me, and you offered me a way to get my daughter out of reach of my ex-husband.” It sounded so pathetic once she said it out loud – God, was that all it had taken to make her betray her Police colleagues? A little kindness? It was the moment that she understood the toll the abuse had taken on her, what it had required to keep herself from falling apart these last four years. She had hunkered down behind barriers of bravado, not even letting her own mother see how shattered and damaged she was. The only way to survive was to convince herself and everyone else that she was okay, she was strong, she didn’t need any help or support. But once this thief had shown her empathy, she realised how much she needed it.  
Sergio frowned. “But you had to know that I could only help you if the heist succeeded?”  
“Yes. Which is why I didn’t tell them everything. I needed the heist to go ahead so that I could get the money to get Paula out of the country, but I had to give them something to string them along. I thought- I hoped to figure out a way to let us get out with enough to start a new life somewhere, without endangering any civilians.”  
He didn’t miss the ‘us’. Did she mean her family, or was she talking about him and the rest of the gang? He wasn’t sure about anything anymore. “And have you figured out a way to do that?” he asked, and she shook her head, crestfallen.  
“No.”

He walked a circle of the room and she tracked his progress as far as she could, uncertain what was going on. His mind had immediately seized onto the puzzle that she had presented, and for a few minutes he forgot where he was and what was happening. He couldn’t help himself; he was a planner, and there had to be a way to do it. When he’d completed the third circle he came to a stop in front of her, the hint of a smile on his lips.  
“Did you tell them anything about how we plan to escape?”  
His excitement shimmered just below the surface and she couldn’t help but get her hopes up. _He’d done it; he’d figured out a way_.  
“No. Nothing.”  
He nodded, pleased. “Then, it’s actually quite simple.”  
She cocked her head and waited, knowing by now that he liked to explain things to people. He didn’t need any prompting to do so.  
“All you have to do is to convince them that the best time to arrest us is during the escape. If they try to do it before then, it’ll result in a bloodbath.” He glanced at her with the shadow of a smirk. “That should be easy enough to sell, seeing as you’re already convinced that your co-conspirators are a bunch of unstable psychopaths.” He was actually joking with her and it lifted her spirits immeasurably. _Perhaps they would be able to salvage their relationship after all_. “Then you simply lie about how we plan to get out, making them wait for the wrong escape. Hopefully, by the time they realise they’ve been had, we’ll be long gone.”  
It was beautiful in its simplicity. And the more she thought about it the more she realised: it could bloody well work. She began to get excited. “My God. Yes.” She grinned at him, and then she said exactly the wrong thing. “I’ll set up a meeting with my handler for next week, when I go home to see my family. I can-“  
His face clouded and he stepped away from her and she stopped talking, confused.

_She was still playing him_. All she was trying to do was to talk herself out of this situation, and as soon as he let her go she would complete the betrayal.   
“You must think I’m a fool,” he told her, his voice suddenly cold, and she frowned.  
“What? I don’t understand.”  
“You just want to talk your way out of here, to go back to your Police friends and tell them the rest of the plan.”  
“ _What_? No, Sergio. _No_.”  
But he wouldn’t listen. He was hurt and betrayed, and all he wanted was not to see her any more. “I’m going back to Toledo,” he announced, “I need to talk to the others. They have the right to know that they have been betrayed; that the Police might show up on our doorstep at any minute.”  
She began to shake her head even before he had finished. “No. Please, don’t do that. If you do we won’t have any chance of pulling this off. They’ll never believe I’m on their side,” she argued desperately, but he turned his back on her and walked out. “Sergio, please! They’ll kill me if they find out I’m a Police officer! Sergio!”  
The only answer she got was the front door slamming behind him. And then she heard the car start up and drive away, and she knew she had only hours to live.

_tbc_


	8. Gamble

_The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves – say rather, loved in spite of ourselves.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

As Sergio sped away from the house he thumped the steering wheel with his hand, heartbroken. The last hour had been a rollercoaster of emotions and it was beginning to catch up with him. He chose to believe that this was the reason for the simmering tears, not the knowledge that she was right - that as soon as he told the others that she was a Police officer, someone would come back here to kill her. To do what he could not. Oh Christ, how was he going to live with that? It was not what he wanted, but he knew what the others would say – if they killed her they could still go ahead with the heist. She had not told the Police enough to make it impossible. Then at least they could get something out of the work they had put into the last four months – the work _he_ had put in for most of his adult life. But even that knowledge did not appease him. He had never considered that something, or some _one_ , would become more important to him than this heist, than realising his father’s dream. And yet here he was, hating himself for what he was about to do to her. Perhaps he should have given her a chance to run, like she had offered him. No. Surely she would go straight to her handler and tell him everything; it wasn’t an option.

Even as he rejected it his heart kept trying. _She at least offered you a choice. Don’t you owe her the same? All she wants is to keep her daughter safe. If you let them kill her, you would be responsible for the poor girl having to go and live with her abusive father. How could you have that on your conscience_? He squeezed the steering wheel with all his strength, trying to smother that persistent inner voice, but it would not be silenced. _She warned you the moment you asked her to come with you to Palawan. As soon as she realised that you wanted a future together. Why? Why would that be enough for her to confess everything? Come on, you’re an intelligent man. Don’t be so blinded by your anger that you’d do something you can’t take back. You love her_. And that was it, that was the crux of the matter after all was said and done. He _loved_ her. He stepped on the brake.

Raquel listened to the silence of the house, resigned to her fate. It was a strange feeling, knowing she was waiting for her execution. She’d always thought when the day came that her cover was blown, she would be terrified, but instead she felt strangely calm. Everything was going wrong, and all because of a simple love story. At least the whole mess had taught her something important about herself: she was still capable of love. Unfettered, whole-hearted love. She had feared, after the abuse, that she would not be able to trust any man enough to allow that; that she would always keep back a piece of herself in any future relationship. But she hadn’t done that with Sergio, because she had felt safe and cherished with him. And now he was about to become her executioner. He would not pull the trigger himself – she knew he did not have _that_ in him, but he would bring someone else to do it and he would therefore be her executioner all the same. She couldn’t blame him. She knew that if the shoe had been on the other foot she would have been incredibly hurt and would most likely have wanted to see him dead; the man who had won her heart under false pretences and then trampled on it. For it had occurred to her that if she had not been sent undercover two years ago, she would most likely have been the Inspector in charge of the heist. She would have been the one he would negotiate with, would try to befriend. And she would have been attracted to him, not knowing he was the man she was hunting. It was a surreal thought and it made her wonder about concepts like ‘destiny’ and ‘soulmates’, which she had never really believed in before.

After a while her thoughts turned to regrets. She supposed that was natural in the face of one’s imminent demise. Her biggest regret, of course, was for her daughter. She’d failed Paula, and now her baby was doomed to a childhood filled with violence and fear. She wondered whether she could ask Sergio to still get Paula and her mother out of the country; surely he would abhor the thought of a child being abused? That brought her thoughts right back to the man she had fallen in love with. _Sergio_. He was, of course, her other big regret. She had not told him that she was in love with him, and she wanted him to know that. It was important to her that he should understand that she had not used him, that every moment with him had been real. What if he didn’t come back with whomever would come to kill her and she never got the chance?

There was the sound of a car engine outside and her adrenalin shot through the roof. _Already_? She could not see her watch and had no idea how much time had passed. How time flies when one had only hours to live… Sergio came through the door first and she was grateful that he had the guts to at least be present; she would focus on him and try to block out everything else. Perhaps it would not be so bad to die, if one could look into the eyes of the man you loved as you did so. Her eyes slid beyond him, anxious to see who he had brought to take care of her. Her money was on Berlin; he would have an additional axe to grind after what had happened with Martin. Sergio noticed her gaze focussed on the door behind him and said, “There’s no-one else.” Her eyes snapped to his and he added, “I haven’t told them yet,” and she sagged in relief, but her wrists protested and she quickly straightened up again. Sergio hesitated, then walked over slowly and came to a stop in front of her. “There’s something I need to know first,” and even through her panic she noticed his vulnerable expression. “Why did you warn me? Why did you blow your cover when you weren’t under any suspicion?”  
This was it. This was her chance to tell him, and she wasn’t about to let it slip through her fingers. She held his gaze, wanting him to read her sincerity as she said the words. “Because I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Tears gathered in his eyes and she could feel the same happening to her. “I’m sorry, Sergio. Really. So very sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I should have left when I realised I was falling for you, but I was so happy. I’ve never been so happy.” She trailed off miserably, willing him to say something but he was struck dumb. A tear escaped and trickled into his beard and it spurred her to continue. “I told you because I couldn’t stand lying to you anymore. It was killing me. I never want to lie to you again.” Still he didn’t respond and she wasn’t sure whether he believed a word of it but she forged on. She had to get it off her chest. All of it. “I meant what I said earlier – I can’t think of anything I want more than going with you to Palawan. To be with you, hopefully for the rest of our lives. Because I’m so in love with you and I think you feel the same. You do, don’t you?”  
He swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered, incapable of denying it, and she stifled a sob of relief.  
“Then give us a chance. Let’s implement your beautiful plan. Let me go to the Police with the false escape information-“ He froze and she hastily cut herself off to add, “You can come with me; I’ll wear a wire or you can install a camera – whatever you need to do, I don’t care. You can hide behind the fucking curtain while I talk to my handler if you want to; but you have to let me do it. It’s the only way to salvage the heist. Sergio. I’m _with_ you.”  
Sergio took a step closer, staring at her. God, he wanted to believe her so badly. “Can I trust you?” he wondered out loud, and she nodded.  
“Come. Come closer,” she urged, knowing the only way to convince him was to show him. He haltingly took another few steps until he stopped right in front of her, and she looked into his eyes before surging forward and crashing their lips together.

Raquel poured all the adoration she felt for this man into the kiss, and it did the trick. After a slight hesitation the tension drained from him and his arms went around her as he kissed her back fervently. It was urgent and raw and desperate, and he knew there could be no more secrets hidden behind that kiss. His hands roamed over her back and into her hair, holding her to him like his life depended on it, and she pressed against him as best she could with her hands still bound above her head. When they eventually broke for air he retreated only a few centimetres, and she met his gaze with a quiet conviction that drove the last of the doubts from his mind.  
“Okay. Let’s do it,” he said, already reaching up to untie her, and she rested her forehead against his chin, overcome and still a little stunned by the intensity of the kiss. As soon as her hands were released she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, trembling with the release of hours’ worth of tension, and he wrapped his own around her and held her. It felt good, it felt right, and he smiled into her hair and squeezed a bit harder, surprised at how easily the forgiveness came. And with it came remorse at what he had done to her, tying her up here for hours, so he asked, “Are you all right? Do your wrists hurt?”  
She smiled into his chest, amazed that he could worry about that after everything, so she murmured, “No more than I deserve,” making him laugh. He made to pull away but she held on, unable to bear the thought of being separated from him. “Just a bit longer?” she pleaded, and he happily bowed to her wish. And as they stood there, clutching each other close, the only thought that came to mind was: they just might be all right.

_Four days later  
_ Raquel was nervous. She was on her way home to Madrid and that afternoon she would meet with Angel. So much hinged on this meeting that it would be no wonder if she were nervous about it, but that wasn’t it. No, what she was really nervous about was that Sergio was going with her. He had not informed the others that she was a Police officer, for which she was eternally grateful. She knew that it had been a difficult decision for him – he felt responsible for the welfare of the people he had roped in and on some level believed they had a right to know about the risk she presented. But he also knew that they would not understand; they did not know Raquel the way he did, and telling them would almost certainly put her in danger. In the end he had chosen her safety over that of the others, and that told her more about the depth of his feelings for her than words ever could. That morning Sergio had simply said that he had to take Lisbon to consult with Micky Fuentes and that they would be back the next day, but actually he was going home with her to monitor the meeting with her handler. She accepted that he needed to do so – even if he trusted her, this was not only about them. He needed to make sure that she told Angel what they had agreed, in order to justify his decision not to blow her cover. But that also meant that he would finally meet her family, and she felt like a schoolgirl bringing home a boyfriend for the first time. It was ridiculous – she was a grown woman for God’s sake, but there it was. She was really nervous. What if Paula didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like Paula or couldn’t cope with her nosy and interfering mother?

She sighed for the umpteenth time and there was a rustling sound behind her.  
“You’re fretting,” Sergio said and she glanced in the rear-view mirror, but all she saw was a lump covered with a grey blanket that blended in with the colour of the seat. She didn’t know whether her house was under surveillance so they were taking precautions – it would ruin everything if the Professor’s image were to be caught on camera. Luckily her house had a garage with a connecting door, so once they were inside he could get into the house unseen.  
“Well, it’s an important occasion,” she responded ambiguously, but he didn’t call her on it.  
“What’s your handler like?” he asked instead, curious about her other life. There hadn’t really been time for further confidences after that eventful afternoon; besides, they had both needed time to process everything that had happened.  
“His name is Angel, and we’ve worked together for fifteen years. He used to be my partner,” she divulged, happy to be sharing this with him. She’d rather talk than be left to her thoughts and worries.  
“Were you close?”  
 _Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all_. She’d rather not share with him that they’d slept together once, even though it had been a long time ago, and that Angel was still chasing after her eight years later. “We used to be,” she said, “but we haven’t seen much of each other since I’ve been undercover.” Then, worried that he would get the wrong idea she added for good measure, “And he was part of the patriarchy that screwed me over after the abuse, so…”  
“Hmm. Not in your good books at the moment?”  
“No.”

Something occurred to her. “Listen. You should know that Intelligence has been running this case right from the start – they’re the ones calling the shots on Operation Midnight.”  
There was an alarmed intake of breath behind her. “Intelligence? Why would they get involved before the Police even knew what we’re planning?”  
“They claimed to have information that the heist would constitute a threat to national security. I thought it was a crock – I know Alberto has friends in Intelligence and I suspected they were merely trying to keep me out of the way. But then I learnt about your plans for the British Ambassador’s daughter, so now I’m not sure anymore.”  
“No. There’s no way they could have known about Alison Parker,” Sergio said decisively and she believed him. But of course they did know about her now, because Raquel had told them, so their involvement had become fully justified. They were both aware of that fact, but neither said anything. There was no point in dragging that up and re-opening barely healed wounds.  
“Anyway, they might send someone along with Angel to the debriefing.”

There was one more touchy subject she had to bring up. “Hey, Sergio?”  
“Hmm?”  
“I’m going to tell Angel that I want to be brought in – that I don’t want to be part of the heist.”  
“…Oh?” he said, trying hard not to jump to conclusions, but she could hear the insecurity in his voice.  
She hastened to explain. “I have to. It’s what he’ll expect. I made it very clear from the start that I didn’t want to be part of this operation, but they forced me into it. It’ll cause suspicion if I don’t try to get out of it every chance I get.”  
That made sense and his panic subsided. “But what if he agrees to bring you in?” he wondered, but she shook her head.  
“He can’t. Extracting an undercover agent before the end of an operation if they’re not in any danger is frowned upon, because it will alert the mark that something is wrong.”

It was strange to hear her talk so confidently about police procedures, and he stared at the roof as he pondered their weird situation. The thief and the cop, falling in love and plotting together. If someone had told him this would happen a mere five months ago, before he’d ever set eyes on Raquel Murillo, he would have laughed in their faces. Cops were the enemy, and he now realised that he’d never thought of them as actual people, with lives and loved ones and responsibilities. They had simply been a concept, an instrument used by an unfair state to repress its citizens, and they had not been worthy to be considered fully rounded human beings who were merely doing a job. How blinded he had been by his anger, by his lust for vengeance. But here was Raquel, by all accounts an excellent Police officer, and at the same time the most wonderful person he had ever met. And she was about to betray everything she had known and achieved, for _him_. Well, all right, mostly to save her daughter, but also because she was in love with _him_. A thief. He shook his head in wonderment. What bravery that displayed. He wondered if he could ever do the same – if he could sacrifice everything for love. It was impossible to answer that question before the time came. But he wanted to be worthy of her, and the first step towards that would be to get her daughter to like him. “So, uh, what is your daughter interested in?” he asked, and could tell that she was pleased that he did by the way her shoulders relaxed. They talked about her family for the rest of the way, and he found himself liking them before he had even met them from what she shared with him. All too soon she turned into the driveway of her house, opened the garage with a remote, and drove in.

Once the door closed behind them Sergio activated a signal detector device, and they sat in tense silence for a minute as it ran through the frequencies. It picked up nothing but the family’s mobile phones.   
“No surveillance devices inside the house,” Sergio reported and sat up. He would have to be careful to stay away from windows, but he could move around the house freely. They had barely stepped out of the car when the connecting door flew open and Paula rushed through. Marivi followed at a more sedate pace and Sergio hung back nervously as Raquel scooped up her daughter and hugged and kissed her. He couldn’t help but smile at the sheer joy of the reunion. Whilst the two greeted each other, Marivi looked him over and he nodded at her. She beamed and came over to grab and squeeze his hands.  
“So you’re the man that has put the smile back on my daughter’s face,” she gushed and he realised – all he would have to do to have her approval is to make her daughter happy. She didn’t care in the least that he was a thief, and some of his anxiety evaporated. Raquel came over to hug her mother, still holding Paula against her with one arm, and then everyone paused and looked at each other. Sergio thought his heart was about to leap out of his chest; how was it possible to be more nervous about this than about any part of the heist? The girl looked at him and he looked at her. She was a younger version of her mother and he swallowed against a sudden wave of sentimentality. If he didn’t fuck things up, she could also be _his_ daughter in the near future.  
“Mama, Paula, I’d like you to meet Sergio,” Raquel said, watching her daughter’s face with trepidation, but Paula seemed unfazed.  
“Hello,” she said to Sergio, and he nodded back.  
“Hi.”  
“Are you dating Mama?” she asked with the forthrightness of a child, and Raquel looked at Sergio in consternation. There had never been any discussion about it, and yet they had dreamt of a future together. But to put it into words suddenly seemed to give it disproportionate weight and she couldn’t help but worry that it would be too heavy for something so fragile and important to her.  
But then Sergio said, “Uhm, yes,” and looked at her before adding uncertainly, “right?” and her fears evaporated. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she nodded.  
“Have you asked her?” Paula persisted, and Marivi stifled a laugh as Sergio fumbled for an answer.  
“Uh, no… But we’ve kissed, and that’s basically the same, isn’t it?”  
Raquel’s eyes widened, but at least he hadn’t said that they’d slept together. She wasn’t sure that they needed to share that much information with her eight-year old daughter.  
Marivi took it upon herself to rescue the poor man from any further interrogation. She clapped her hands and said, “Come on, I’ve made lunch,” and led the way through to the house.

_One hour later  
_ Angel arrived early, but Raquel had expected that and everything was in place. Sergio had set up a hidden camera in the lounge and would watch on a laptop in her bedroom. It had a limited range and the signal would not be picked up outside of the house, and Raquel had sent Marivi and Paula to the shop. She did not want them around, worried that they might inadvertently say something that would betray the Professor’s presence. The policeman came alone and for that she was grateful; she had no desire to deal with Colonel Prieto as well. Angel smiled broadly and hugged her, and she allowed him to do so. She kept it brief, though, very aware that Sergio was watching.  
“Raquel,” he greeted, “It’s been so long, I’d begun to worry that you had decided to join the robbers,” he joked, and she hid her shock behind a dismissive laugh. He remained oblivious; too happy about seeing her again to notice the tremor that ran through her at the words.

He sat down on one of the chairs and looked at her expectantly, but she was too keyed up to sit and he rose again, for the first time noticing the tension radiating from her. “Hey, are you all right?”  
She stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously? You’re really going to ask me that?” She took a step toward him and stabbed her finger at his chest. “I’ve been undercover for two years and five months, separated from my family for most of that time, and you’re asking me if I’m _all right_? Fuck.” She turned away, pressing a hand to her forehead, and he shifted uncomfortably. There was nothing to say, however; there was nothing he could do about it. “I want out, Angel,” she eventually continued, more subdued. “I don’t want to go into the Royal Mint with these thieves. I’ve done enough, haven’t I? Can’t you pull me out now? I can’t take the lying anymore.” He couldn’t know how true that last part was, and she watched his reaction from the corner of her eye. He looked guilty for some reason.  
“I know. Sorry, it was a stupid question. But it’s almost done. A week or two more and you’ll be free. This time I’ll fight for you, Raquel. And maybe- who knows, maybe after you’re done we could go away with your family-” He trailed off as she swung round and stared at him, cold fury building in her gaze.  
“ _This_ time?” she queried, her voice icy, and he froze, belatedly realising his error. She laughed bitterly and nodded as she processed that, and he knew that she saw everything now, including the reason he had not spoken up for her when he’d had the chance.  
“Raquel-“ he began, but she held up a hand.  
“Save it. I’ll give you my report, but then I want you to go.”

Sergio watched the exchange intently. He marvelled at how good she was; how easily she manipulated the discussion in the direction she wanted. He was sure that the policeman bought everything she said. But when the man began to make advances, Sergio was gripped by an emotion he’d never experienced before: jealousy. It had never occurred to him that he might have competition, that there might be other men in the picture, and she had underplayed her relationship with her ex-partner during their last discussion. But it was clear as day that the man was besotted with her, and he had never been happier to hear another man being slapped down by a woman as he was that day. It made him think, though; it was obviously not the first time that Angel had made his interest known, and yet nothing had come of it. Sergio had been worried on some level that Raquel’s feelings for him had more to do with the escape he could offer her and her daughter, but if she’d always had another option – to settle for Angel – and she’d not taken it, then maybe it was more than that? Maybe she had truly fallen in love with him like he so desperately hoped.

He listened as she gave Angel her report, telling him exactly what they had agreed on beforehand, and the policeman swallowed it without question. She was brilliant and Sergio couldn’t help but be proud. And when she was done she promptly stood and headed for the door, expecting Angel to follow. He sat for a moment, looking devastated, before he slowly got to his feet and followed. Sergio actually felt sorry for him; Raquel was not a woman one would get over easily once she’d burrowed into your heart. He heard the front door close and a few seconds later she appeared in the entrance to her room. She lifted an eyebrow, folded her arms and leant against the jamb, and he could see the pride she took in what she had just pulled off. But behind that there was also sadness, and he was reminded that she had been friends with the man she had just deceived, that she had worked next to him for fifteen years. Without thinking he moved forward until he stood right in front of her.  
“Well done,” he murmured, “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.” He reached out to take her hand, and as soon as their skin connected she surged forward to kiss him. It was their first kiss since that desperate one in the other safe house, and it threatened to spiral out of control and to lead to much more until they were interrupted by the laughter of her mother and daughter as they returned from the shops.   
Raquel sighed, then gripped the lapels of his suit jacket as she gazed at him and promised, “Later,” before turning to go help unpack the groceries. He had never known that one little word could create such tremendous expectation, but for the rest of the evening he was on pins and needles, barely containing his impatience until they would be alone again.

It was two hours later when they finally got to close the bedroom door behind them. They took one look at each other and began shedding clothes, in a hurry to feel skin against skin. But once they were naked and entwined, the urgency suddenly left them, tempered by the thought that this could be the last time they made love before the start of the heist. They took their time, revelling in the sheer joy of their union once more, talking to each other in low murmurs.  
“So. Are you reconsidering that invitation to join you in Palawan now that you have met the Murillo clan?” she asked, trailing her palms up his sides until she could bury her fingers in his hair.  
“Uhmm.” He pretended to think about it until she lightly yanked on a fistful of hair, then laughed and nuzzled her nose with his. “No. Quite the opposite, “ he confessed and she beamed at him, her nose crinkling. “They’re lovely, Raquel,” he added and she pulled his head down to kiss him ardently, relieved beyond words. It had gone better than she had expected and if she had harboured any doubts about the path she had chosen, they had dissipated as she watched him laugh with Paula over some silly joke. There were no more reservations: she was ready to leave everything behind and start a new life with Sergio in Palawan.

The only obstacle that remained was the not insignificant matter of the heist. She would go inside with the others and if something should go wrong this would be the last time she’d be with him. But now was not the time to think about that. Now, she wanted to be fully present with him, here in her own bed for the first time, and only dream of the future that awaited them.

_tbc_


	9. Protector

_Cosette was not very timid by nature. There flowed in her veins some of the blood of the bohemian and the adventuress who runs barefoot. It will be remembered that she was more of a lark than a dove. There was a foundation of wildness and bravery in her.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

The last days before the commencement of the heist passed in a blur as the gang scrambled to get the preparations done. On the final day the Professor ran through every aspect with them one more time, testing whether they remembered what to do in every eventuality. Raquel was impressed by how much the others got right; they had obviously been listening carefully to the instructions so maybe they had a better than even chance of pulling it off. That evening they shared one final meal and this time Raquel couldn’t help herself; her eyes often strayed to Sergio, making use of every opportunity to drink him in. Hopefully, after the heist, she would be able to look at him as much as she wanted. He seemed preoccupied, which was understandable, and it was only when they dispersed and he remained behind with Berlin that she began to suspect that the heist was not the cause of it. She left with the others, not begrudging him this time with his brother. Like he had said not so long ago, family mattered.

In her room she first packed her stuff that needed to go with the Professor to the warehouse to await their escape. Then she meticulously went through the things that needed to go into the Royal Mint with her – the Dali mask, the red overalls, underwear, toiletries. Next came the equipment she needed for her safe-cracking duties. She was interrupted by a soft knock on the door and got up to open it. It was late and the house was quiet; it seemed everyone was using this last night to ready themselves mentally for what lay ahead. Sergio stood in the corridor and she ushered him in, glancing up and down but it was deserted.  
“Hey.” She ran a hand over his cheek and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “Everything okay?”  
“Yes. Fine.” He looked around the room vaguely, his mind on other things. She brought her other hand up to turn his head back to her, to force him to look at her.  
“Sergio.”  
He sighed. “I’m sorry. I-“ and then he blurted, “Andres is sick.” He looked at her with anguish. “It’s incurable – Helmers myopathy. He’s dying.”  
Her heart clenched. “Oh, Sergio.” She took him into her arms and he pressed his face into her hair. “I’m so sorry.” She stroked the back of his neck, knowing that it soothed him. De Fonollosa was a sexist asshole but she didn’t wish this on him. No-one deserved such a slow and painful death. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you,” she promised, and Sergio pressed a kiss to her forehead.  
“Thank you.”  
She could sense that there was more and waited patiently, giving him time to order his thoughts.  
Eventually he added, “And you’ll look out for the hostages? Make sure no-one is harmed unnecessarily?”  
She gazed at him, her wonderful genius, but an innocent in so many ways, and nodded soberly. “I will,” she said with conviction and he kissed her then, slow and deep, as though he was trying to seal their bond one final time. Afterwards they stood for a while, hands clasped and foreheads pressed together, absorbing each other, before he reluctantly withdrew. “I better go.”  
She released him and watched him walk to the door, where he hesitated with his hand on the knob and looked back at her. “Raquel. Be careful,” he implored and she nodded.  
“If they catch you, I’ll kill you,” she said in return and he smiled, then disappeared through the door. And that was the last she saw of him before entering the Royal Mint. When they gathered for breakfast the next morning, the Professor had already left for Madrid, and they were marshalled into the van by Berlin.

This was it, this was the start of the heist they had spent five months preparing for, and as Raquel looked over her fellow thieves as they drove to their designated intercept point of the truck with the rolls of paper, she saw the suppressed current of energy that ran through each of them. It was a feeling she was exceedingly familiar with after two years of undercover work, and she realised that she was probably the calmest person there - with the possible exception of Berlin. She felt a stab of sympathy as she glanced at him. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see the slight tremors in his hands. No wonder he was calm; he had absolutely nothing to lose, and she knew she would have to keep an eye on him. It could make him dangerous, and her first priority was to keep everyone safe. She might have defected to the thieves’ side, but at heart she remained a protector. That was the reason she had become a Police officer in the first place – to protect, and she would do her utmost to ensure none of the hostages were harmed. Besides, she had promised Sergio. Her thoughts were interrupted by the rumbling of an approaching truck and she redirected her focus; now it was time for action, for the first crucial step in the Professor’s brilliant plan.

_Six hours later  
_ It was a disaster. Everything had been going like clockwork - they went in a week earlier than Alison Parker’s school visit would have taken place, catching the Security Forces off-guard. As a result they got into the Royal Mint without any problems and she had the vault open within half an hour, impressing even Tokyo, but then the younger woman lost her head and wounded two policemen, and now the whole thing was in the balance. Raquel glared at Tokyo as they communicated with the Professor, and was surprised to hear that Berlin had also noticed that Tokyo and Rio were sleeping together. She wondered fleetingly whether he had also noticed more than he had let on about her and his brother, but there was no time to worry about it at that moment. They had to act quickly or the whole plan would go down the drain. It was down to the Professor now to convince the authorities that any attempt to storm the Mint would result in a bloodbath. Luckily Raquel had already planted the seed during her last report; she had told Angel that some of her companions were ruthless and would shoot the hostages if they were pushed into a corner, so hopefully Sergio could convince them of that. She thought it unlikely that Prieto would hold off for more than five days before he stormed the place, but that should be plenty of time to print a good deal of money. Not the 2.4 billion Euros the Professor had dreamt of, but if they could get even half of that, it would be more than enough for all of them to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. In the end they managed to discourage the first attack by dressing up the hostages in the same outfits as the thieves, and by making sure the authorities knew about the explosives at all the entry points, and in the early morning hours the Professor was able to report that the Security Forces had withdrawn and was holding off for now. Life inside settled down, with Nairobi marshalling the money printing and Moscow the digging duties, and the rest of them guarded the hostages.

Over in the police tent Colonel Prieto took charge of the negotiations with the Professor. He was gruff and often rude, and Angel regularly had to remind him of the stipulations in the Police’s negotiations handbook. Prieto didn’t care much; they had the ace of their undercover agent up their sleeves, and all he had to do was to force this bunch of idiots to implement their escape plan and he would have them. For he thought he knew exactly how they planned to escape – Inspector Murillo had reported that they planned to wait until a big enough crowd had gathered outside; then they would throw money from the roof and the windows and in the ensuing chaos they would slip out, hidden amongst the similarly dressed hostages. She had urged them to wait to this point to make the arrest, as this would minimise any possible collateral damage, and he reluctantly agreed with her. But he wasn’t a patient man, and he hoped to force them into implementing this plan in as few days as possible. Besides, this Professor was getting on his nerves, forever asking personal questions and making him look like an idiot, and he wanted to end this sooner rather than later.

On the inside Raquel had her hands full to keep her companions calm. The stress was getting to everyone and when Monica Gaztambide was caught with a hidden mobile phone, matters quickly spiralled out of control. Raquel suspected that it was actually the doing of the pissy Director of the Mint, Arturo Roman, who seemed to think of himself as a hero, but Berlin ignored her when she tried to intercede on behalf of Gaztambide. He summarily ordered Denver to shoot the poor woman and the younger man led her away, looking bewildered. Raquel slipped after them as soon as Berlin’s back was turned, and when she burst into the restroom, gun drawn, she found Denver pacing around and the hostage thankfully still alive. Denver’s eyes widened when she aimed her gun between his eyes and said, deadly serious, “If you harm her, I’ll shoot you.”  
“Whoa, Lisbon,” he exclaimed, holding up his hands, “let’s not do anything stupid now.”  
“What, like kill a hostage?” Raquel countered. “The Professor expressly forbid it.”  
He dropped his hands, looking lost and confused. “But in here Berlin is king, and he ordered me to.” He took a step towards Raquel. “If I don’t kill her, he’ll kill me.”  
She shook her head. “Leave Berlin to me. But it might be best to hide her away for now, in case he decides to do the job himself.”  
The woman looked at her with gratitude and Raquel smiled at her with more reassurance than she felt. Then she turned and went in search of Berlin, gun in hand.

She found him feeding the fish in the Director’s office. He turned when he heard the lock of the door click into place to find Lisbon standing behind him, a pistol dangling from her hand by her side. The safety catch was off and he straightened, watchful.  
“What can I do for you, Lisbon?” he asked, managing to let even that question sound vaguely lascivious.  
“You ordered Denver to kill a hostage. That’s a direct violation of the Professor’s instructions.”  
“Ah.” He turned back to the fish. “But the Professor is not here, is he? And because of that he can’t understand that sometimes an unpleasant action is required to keep people in line.”  
“ _Unpleasant_?! It’s _murder_ , Berlin.” She gravitated towards the desk and to her delight spotted a pencil. He watched, bemused, as she picked it up and tied up her hair with it. “And you don’t have the guts to do it yourself,” she continued with disdain. “No, instead you order that poor dumb schmuck to do it.”  
He snickered at the term but there was a dangerous glint in his eye now. “Because that’s what leaders do, Lisbon. They delegate.” He stepped closer to her and she lifted the gun a fraction. “And you seem to be forgetting that I am in charge in here. Just because you and I have history does not mean I’ll allow you to challenge my authority.” He took another step towards her and she levelled the gun at his chest.

Over in the warehouse Sergio watched the developments with growing concern. He didn’t have audio and couldn’t hear what was being discussed, but things seemed to be escalating alarmingly. When his lover pointed a gun at his brother, he grabbed the phone.  
As the red instrument began to ring Berlin smirked. “That’ll be the Professor. I’m sure he’s curious as to why you’re being insubordinate.”  
Raquel glared at him as she leant over and snatched up the earpiece with her left hand and pressed it to her ear.  
Sergio’s voice came over the line and she was momentarily filled with warmth. God, she missed him. “What the hell is going on over there?” he demanded and she glanced up at the camera.  
“Why don’t you ask Berlin?” She held out the receiver to the other man, who took it after a slight hesitation.  
“Professor.”  
“What’s going on, Berlin?”  
The thief looked Raquel square in the eye as he answered. “I ordered Denver to shoot one of the hostages, and Lisbon took exception.”  
He had balls; she had to give him that.  
Sergio felt dizzy. “I expressly forbid you to spill any blood.” He had to breathe deeply before he could continue. “You have ruined everything – you have lost us the moral high ground.”  
Berlin turned to face the camera. “Your insistence on not harming anyone is admirable, but it is unrealistic. Fear is the only way to keep the hostages submissive. By punishing the first one that steps out of line, we discourage the others to try to be heroes. It’s the only way to control them. Besides, nobody on the outside will know-“  
“For God’s sake, they will ask for proof of life soon – you know that.” Sergio closed his eyes and pressed the phone against his chin. His life’s dream was falling apart, and because of his brother of all people. He lifted the instrument back to his ear, overwhelmed by guilt. “Who? Who did you kill, Berlin?”  
“Monica Gaztambide.”

They could hear the bangs as he smashed the receiver against the table in anger and Berlin looked at Raquel. She couldn’t bear the thought of Sergio suffering so she took back the phone. “Professor, she’s still alive,” she reported, and Berlin cocked his head and smiled wryly. She had got him to confess what he’d done before she admitted that and he couldn’t help but admire her cunning.  
“…She is?”  
“Yes. I stopped Denver, although I suspect he wouldn’t have gone through with it anyway. He’s not a killer; he’s not capable of shooting a defenceless person in cold blood.” She glared at Berlin as she said it and he looked away.  
Sergio sagged in relief. “That’s good news.”  
But she wasn’t done. “The hostages don’t know that, though. Berlin is right about one thing – we do have to discourage further attempts at heroism. But there’s a way to do it without killing anyone. All we have to do is to make them believe we’re capable of it. So I propose that we keep her isolated and let the other hostages believe she’s dead. The power of suggestion can sometimes be more persuasive than reality.”  
“Good. Do it,” the Professor ordered. “And Berlin.” He waited until she handed the phone back and his brother turned to the camera once more. “If you disobey my orders again, there will be consequences.” With that he severed the connection and buried his face in his hands.

Raquel watched Berlin slowly put the receiver back in its cradle before she flicked on the safety catch of her gun and turned to leave.  
“Lisbon,” he called and she stopped at the door. “You won this round, but be warned – if you interfere with my orders like this again there will be consequences for you as well. Grave, deadly ones. You sleeping with my brother won’t stop me from doing it.”  
She stared at him, shocked. _Oh shit. He knew_. He stared back, until she turned and slowly left the room.

Barely twenty-four hours later she had her second run-in with Berlin. Nairobi came to her and informed her that their leader had gathered a few of the female hostages in a room and was acting weird and was basically terrorising them.  
“For fuck’s sake. I think it’s time for an intervention.” Mindful of Berlin’s threat after her previous interference, Raquel decided to call for reinforcements. “Get Tokyo and Moscow and meet me there,” she ordered, and this time she took one of the automatic rifles along. She burst into the room and five frightened faces turned towards her, but Berlin was not there. “Where is he?” she asked urgently and one of the women pointed at another door. “He took Ariadna in there,” she informed Raquel in a tremulous voice just as the others joined her. Raquel looked at Moscow and he nodded, anger simmering in his eyes. He tried the door but it was locked, so he stood back and charged at it with his full weight. It burst open and Raquel rushed through on his heels to find Berlin about to bend the woman over the table. “Leave her the fuck alone,” she ordered, cocking the rifle, and the woman sobbed in relief. “Ariadna, isn’t it?” Raquel said in a soothing voice without taking her eyes off Berlin. “Why don’t you go with Nairobi here into the other room?”

Nairobi stepped forward and took her arm to lead her out, and as soon as they were out of sight Tokyo forced her way past Raquel and stuck the barrel of her rifle practically up Berlin’s nose.  
“I say we bend _him_ over the table and stick this up his ass, see how he likes it,” she threatened, and Berlin shrugged with a sardonic smile.  
“I don’t know what you think was about to happen, but she asked for it.”  
By this time Nairobi was back and she sneered, “She only offered because she thought you were going to kill her. She was trying to save her own life.”  
He shook his head and something snapped inside Raquel. All those years of living in fear of her husband came rushing back and she stepped forward, trembling.  
“Nairobi is right, Berlin. She is petrified of you. How could you not see the terror in her eyes?” The smile slipped from Berlin’s face as she added, “Or did you see it and not care? Did you get off on it, to hold the power of terror over a woman?”  
His gaze dropped to the floor and for a fleeting moment she saw remorse in his expression, before it hardened and he looked up at the others.  
“Lisbon thinks she’s a psychiatrist. Did she tell you that she’s sleeping with our Professor?”  
The _fucker_. He was trying to deflect their attention but Raquel was too far gone to care. She didn’t give a toss what the others might think of that; she only wanted to keep those women safe. So she stepped forward and shoved him against the wall, then hissed into his ear: “If you think that you being Sergio’s brother is going to stop me from shooting you if you lay a finger on any of those women, you better think again, asshole.” She pulled back and spoke louder, so that the others could also hear. “All of us are here to tell you that if you touch any of these women, you will have a revolt on your hands. Do you understand?”  
Berlin looked between them and eventually held up his hands.  
“Fine.”

As they escorted the women back to the other hostages Raquel was aware of Tokyo and Nairobi staring at her. She turned to them. “You have something to say?” she demanded, deciding that attack was the best form of defence, and Nairobi grinned and shrugged.  
“Just wondering what the Professor’s like in bed,” she quipped cheekily before walking off, her laughter trailing after her.  
Raquel felt herself blushing, but she couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face as she gave a smirking Tokyo a look and walked in the other direction.

The next calamity came the following day, when Denver decided it was a good idea to take his father onto the roof for some fresh air, along with a bunch of hostages. Raquel was with Monica and missed the whole thing, but one of the hostages were wounded and she was furious with Denver when she found out. She was beginning to despair of getting through the heist without having to shoot one of her fellow conspirators. They all seemed to be unravelling and making stupid decisions. Just a few hours before that she had found Tokyo harassing another of the female hostages who had apparently looked at Rio too appreciatively, and had had to defuse that. And speaking of Rio, the tech wizard had decided to activate the television feed against the Professor’s orders, but by that time Raquel was too weary to pick yet another fight and let him be. At least some good came out of the roof fiasco – the police sent in Angel along with the doctors and it gave them the chance to insert a transmitter into his glasses. Raquel, however, kept out of the way, rather taking a turn to check on Monica in the second vault. Denver looked anguished when she relieved him and she laid a calming hand on his shoulder.  
“Arturo is going to be fine,” she soothed, “the doctors are working on him now.” She was beginning to feel like a camp counsellor running around comforting a bunch of angsty teenagers, and that only increased when he confessed that he was worried about Monica aborting her child rather than about the injured man.  
“Well, ultimately it’s her body, and her choice,” Raquel cautioned. “And speaking as a woman myself, I’d find it particularly galling if some random man tried to lecture me about it.” He sloped off, dejected, and she sighed and stepped inside with the lunch she’d brought.

She sat down and stretched out her legs in front of her and watched the other woman eat. They all knew her story by now; sleeping with the boss and getting herself pregnant, only for the jerk to refuse to take any responsibility for it. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out what this gorgeous woman would see in the whiny Director; his position of power was all he had going for him as far as she could tell. It was probably the age-old story – boss uses his position to hit on female employee, who feels flattered by the attention and does not realise she’s being used until it was too late. Not that Raquel was in any position to judge; her own record with men wasn’t exactly stellar - first an abuser and now the thief she was supposed to put in jail. At least Sergio was a good man, so maybe she was imrpoving.  
“Do you need anything?” she asked, and Monica looked up.  
“No, thank you.”  
Raquel hesitated, then asked, “You can tell me if it’s none of my business, but have you taken it yet? The abortion pill?”  
Monica looked down at her hands, then shook her head. “I haven’t made up my mind.”  
“Are you worried that your anger at the father might influence how you feel about the baby?” she hazarded, and Monica looked at her in surprise.  
“Yes,” she admitted, “it has occurred to me.”  
Raquel nodded. “I can tell you from experience it won’t. I have a young daughter, and her father beat me.” Monica’s eyes widened in horror and Raquel pushed on. “But I’ve never, not for one second, loved my child any less for the sins of her father.”  
Monica’s face crumpled, more in relief than anything else, and Raquel reached out and squeezed her arm. She couldn’t help but like this woman, and she hoped things would work out for her.

When she went back to the other hostages Berlin appeared on the gantry and beckoned her over. “The Professor wants to talk to you,” he informed her and she hurried to the telephone, eager to hear his voice.  
“Hey,” she greeted and smiled at the camera, and in the warehouse Sergio smiled back even though she couldn’t see him.  
“Hi.” The only reason he wanted to talk to her was because he missed her, and they chatted about inconsequential things for a while, happy simply to hear each other’s voices. Eventually he asked, “How are things going inside?” and she sighed.  
“Everyone’s getting a bit frazzled,” she admitted, but refrained from telling him that his brother had been on the verge of raping a woman. She spoke in general terms about the strains they were experiencing and concluded, “I don’t know if we’re going to last ten days in here without a major mistake. Is there some way we can speed up the digging of the tunnel?”  
Sergio considered. “I’ll get some people, start digging from this side too,” he decided, and she nodded gratefully. It would be good to have a way out, should they need it sooner than expected.

_Next day  
_ _Police tent  
_ Angel looked up in surprise as Alberto Vicuna walked into the tent and greeted Prieto warmly. He hadn’t wanted to believe Raquel when she’d alleged that Operation Midnight was just an elaborate plot to prevent her from pursuing her case of abuse against her ex-husband, but now he was beginning to wonder. It made him feel even more guilty that he hadn’t stood up for her. No wonder she didn’t want anything to do with him right now.  
“How’s the operation going?” Vicuna asked and Prieto shrugged.  
“So far everything is happening as our inside man predicted it would. So we just have to wait them out and nab them during the escape.”  
Angel shook his head, unhappy at how much information Prieto was sharing with someone that was not involved in the operation.  
Vicuna nodded, then asked, “And your man’s physically in there with them?” and Prieto nodded. There was something in Alberto’s voice that alarmed Angel, and when he left a few minutes later Angel went to the door of the tent and watched him go. He saw him make a call as he drove away, and couldn’t help but wonder what this little visit had been about.

_Inside the Mint_  
It was time for the ten o’clock news and Raquel gravitated towards the television. She might as well see how the heist was being perceived on the outside. Most of the others were already there, with the exception of Helsinki and Oslo, who were guarding the hostages. The heist was the top story, and they grinned at each other as the reporter highlighted the growing wave of support for the thieves on social media. Then she said, unable to contain her excitement, “And in an exclusive, we can now confirm that the Police have a presence inside the Mint, in the form of an undercover officer. Inspector Raquel Murillo has had a distinguished career…”  
But Raquel heard nothing further. The words were drowned out by a whistling in her ears as her Police identity card filled the screen, and every head in the room turned towards her.

Sergio jumped to his feet, holding out a hand towards the screen, as though he was trying to stop what was happening. To perhaps stop time itself. He could not believe what just happened. Who had told the press? As he looked at the feed from the Mint he saw, to his horror, the others surrounding Raquel. But worst of all, he saw Tokyo pull out a gun and point it at the woman he loved.

_tbc_


	10. Blown

_People weighed down with troubles do not look back; they know only too well that misfortune stalks them.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

Oh, Christ. _This was it_. Raquel knew that this was probably the end. She could see it in Tokyo’s eyes – a kind of red mist had descended and blocked out all reason, all hesitation. Within seconds she would pull the trigger and it would be over. Paula would no longer have a mother to protect her, Sergio would no longer have someone who loved him more than life itself, and the Police would no longer be saddled with a troublesome-  
 _Those motherfuckers_. They had sold her out, she realised with sickening certainty, and it was the last straw. It was the final blow that severed the perilous thread that still bound her to her old life, to her responsibilities as a Police officer, and as of that moment she would never look back, never regret her decision to join Sergio and his motley band of thieves. It was a pity that she wouldn’t live long enough to tell him, she thought as the red phone began to ring shrilly in the background.

Angel jumped to his feet as soon as the bulletin aired and looked around wildly for Prieto. To his surprise the Intelligence man was also staring at the TV monitor, his mouth open in astonishment, and that was when Angel knew: it had not been Intelligence that had sold Raquel out – it had been her ex-husband, Alberto Vicuna. He rushed over to Prieto.  
“We have to do something! They’ll kill her!”  
Prieto held up a hand, trying to make sense of what was happening.  
“How the hell did the press find out about our agent?” he demanded, and Angel threw up his hands.  
“Wake up, Prieto. It was Alberto. Why the fuck else was he in here, asking all those questions? I saw him make a call as soon as he left the tent. I’m sure if we check his phone records we’ll confirm it.”  
“Alberto?” Prieto frowned. “But why would he…”  
He trailed off and Angel nodded. “ _Now_ do you believe her about the abuse? This has gone too far, Colonel. This is reckless endangerment of a fellow officer, and I demand that you take action against him!”

In the warehouse Sergio was frantically trying to follow the developments in both the Mint and the police tent. He clutched the red phone to his ear, willing the ringing to get through to those now surrounding Raquel so that he could tell them – she was on their side. What if they shot her before he got a chance? He would never forgive himself. He stared at the grainy footage, willing somebody, _anybody_ , to pick up the damn phone.

The ringing finally broke through the fog of panic that had descended on Raquel and she seized on it, letting it anchor her. She turned her head towards Tokyo slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, and met her gaze squarely down the barrel of the gun. “You should get that; it’ll be the Professor,” she said, inordinately proud at how calm her voice sounded.  
But Tokyo ignored her and Raquel could see her finger tightening on the trigger. Somehow she had always known, from the moment she had met this woman, that she was the most likely to be her executioner. Tokyo had always been the most unpredictable, the most impulsive, and time slowed as Raquel watched the trigger begin to give under the pressure. But then a hand clamped down over Tokyo’s and forced the gun down, and the bullet slammed into the floor at Raquel’s feet. The bang echoed around the room and everybody ducked for cover, except her. She remained rooted to the spot, deafened by the noise, amazed that she was still alive. She looked up to see Berlin standing next to Tokyo, still keeping hold of the gun, and he appeared to be the only point of calm in a sea of chaos around them.  
“Jesus, Tokyo!” Rio exclaimed.  
“Fuck!” Nairobi said at the same time, and Denver turned away with his hands on his head, muttering to himself.  
“Let go, Berlin,” Tokyo protested, trying to level the gun once more, “she’s a traitor.”  
“Yes,” he said, and the assuredness of his voice brought all eyes to him. “But if anyone is going to shoot her, it will be me.” It was said with a certain amount of relish and her blood turned to ice in her veins. It was only a temporary reprieve – he must know now that his friend Martin had told the truth; that _she_ had been the cause that the diamonds were not there on their previous job. The only reason he had stepped in was because he wanted revenge, wanted the satisfaction of doing it himself. “Nairobi, will you answer that phone?” he added, and suddenly they all became aware of the strident ringing sound coming from the red instrument.

Sergio watched the events unfold with growing horror, and when the muzzle of the gun flashed he jerked as though he had been the one in front of that bullet. _Oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no_. When he realised that his brother had slapped down the gun in time, he had never loved him more. And finally he saw Nairobi move to the table and pick up the phone, and he couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. “Don’t kill her! For God’s sake, Nairobi, please don’t kill her!”  
“Wait, I’m putting you on speaker,” she responded, before she pressed a button and replaced the instrument.  
“Berlin,” Sergio said immediately, “I am _ordering_ you not to kill Lisbon. I trust her completely.”  
Tokyo surged forward. “Don’t listen to him! She’s fucking him – he’ll do anything for her because of that,” she urged, and those that did not yet know stared at Raquel in amazement. “She’ll sell us out the first chance she gets!”  
“No. _No_ ,” Sergio reiterated. “I am absolutely certain that won’t happen,” and Raquel’s heart swelled with love despite her precarious situation.  
“Is it true?” Nairobi asked, “Are you a cop?” She seemed almost saddened by the realisation that someone she considered a friend could have betrayed them.  
Raquel’s eyes turned towards her, but before she could answer the Professor did so.  
“Yes, it’s true,” he admitted, then hastily added, “but she’s on our side.”  
“Jesus, Professor. You seriously believe that?” Tokyo sneered, and Raquel saw her chance.  
“Think about it,” she told them. “How would the press find out about an undercover Police officer? The only way is if someone in the Police told them, if one of my so-called colleagues sold me out. Now ask yourself – why would they do that?”

Berlin’s eyes narrowed as he thought it over. “That is a good question, but let’s start at the beginning.” He tilted his head. “Why?” he asked, “Why would you betray your Police colleagues to help us in the first place?”  
To her chagrin Raquel felt tears spring to her eyes. “Because I accused my ex-husband of abuse. He’s a senior officer in the Scientific branch, and they didn’t want to hear it. Not a single one of my colleagues believed me. Instead of pursuing a case against him they sent me undercover to get me out of the way, and kept me out there for much longer than regulations allow. And now someone in the Police have sold me out, probably hoping you’ll kill me and rid them of the nuisance I’ve obviously become to them. This is what the authorities resort to now – the system is riddled with corruption and abuse of power. So you tell me: why would I remain loyal to something I can no longer trust, no longer believe in?”  
“Is that the only reason?” Berlin pressed, and her eyes slid away from his and towards the camera. If they were going to kill her, she would not let this opportunity to tell him one final time pass her by, so she said, her voice dropping and becoming tender, “No. Also because I have fallen in love.” She stared at the camera as though she was hoping to see him on the other side, and he felt tears also gather in his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, but before he could say anything his attention was drawn to the audio from the police tent.  
Angel’s voice came through loud and clear, demanding, “We have to go in, Colonel. We owe her that much.”

Raquel also heard it, and she was moved despite her annoyance with her former partner. It seemed he was belatedly coming through, fighting for her. Only now she wished he wouldn’t; it was the worst possible time for him to do so.  
“How far is the tunnel?” she asked Moscow, and he shook his head gloomily.  
“We need at least two more days, I think.”  
She looked back at the camera, aware that Berlin was watching her closely the whole time. He held his gun casually by his side, but she noticed his finger was inside the trigger guard. “Professor, you’ll have to convince them you won’t harm me.”  
Sergio had already come to the same conclusion. “Yes. But how?”  
Raquel thought feverishly. “Arrogance,” she declared. “That’s something Prieto will understand, and therefore believe.”

_Yes_. He liked the idea – arrogant men like Prieto would be taken in by what they perceived to be blind arrogance in others; not realising that they were the blind ones. “I have an idea. Can you give me anything that would only be obtainable from the secure Police database that I can use?”  
Raquel nodded, grasping his intentions immediately. In the background she could hear the order being shouted in the police tent as they prepared for an assault. If the Security Forces came with everything they had, the gang would be trapped like rats. There would be no escape. “Prieto’s son was arrested for a hit-and-run incident seven years ago. He was drunk. Prieto used his influence to make it go away. But the record is there, on the secure server.”  
Sergio considered this. “But your service record isn’t?”  
“No. They remove all undercover officers’ records to an archive that’s not connected to any electronic system. You’d literally have to break into Police headquarters to get your hands on it.”  
Sergio nodded to himself; that’ll do. But he had to hurry. He severed the call to the Mint and punched the line for the Police tent instead, then picked up one of his red papers and began to fold as he waited.

In the tent Prieto froze as soon as the ringing began. He turned to Angel and saw his own fears reflected there; they were too late. The Professor was calling to let them know they’d already killed her. He strode forward and snatched up the receiver, and the metallic voice echoed through the tent.  
“Nice try, Colonel,” it said, and there were confused looks among the security officers.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Prieto yelped, and there was a chuckle from the other side.  
“You’re trying to divide us, but it won’t work.”  
There was nothing for it but to play along, Prieto decided. “Uh, am I?”  
“It was a good attempt, I’ll give you that; the digital manipulation to get that photo onto the Police identity card was done quite professionally.” Understanding began to dawn and Prieto ran a hand over his bald head in relief as the Professor continued, his voice turning smug. “But you see, Colonel, I know my people, and none of them are Police officers. I checked your Police records thoroughly, and I’m confident that I would have known if any of them had ever worked for you.”

Prieto began to smile. “But – those records are secure. There’s no way you could have got at them,” he protested, pretending to be concerned, and there was another chuckle.  
“Come now, Colonel. I have the best hackers in the business at my disposal. I’m certain.” Sergio put as much arrogance as he could muster into his voice and it seemed to work.  
“If you say so,” Prieto said, unconvinced, and Sergio smiled. He was taking the bait.  
“You don’t believe me. Here, let me prove it to you: seven years ago your son was arrested for a hit-and-run, and you made it disappear.” The blood began to drain from Prieto’s face as he talked. “But the Police kept a copy of the arrest sheet on their most secure database – I guess in case they ever needed some leverage against you.” He waited, but there was no response from the other side. “Have a good day, Colonel,” he added pleasantly, then disconnected.  
There was a tense few seconds in which no-one spoke, before Prieto managed to gather himself. He laughed, ignoring the accusing looks from the Police officers around him. “Stand down the assault,” he ordered. “That arrogant bastard thinks he has our number. I only hope I can be there to see his face when he realises that Murillo really is a Police officer.” He turned away to stare at the identikit against the wall, and said softly to himself, “Who are you?”

Back at the warehouse Sergio punched the air; it had worked. It had bloody worked. Then he snatched up the phone again to let Berlin know. Hopefully the whole episode would convince the others that Raquel really was on their side.  
Berlin glanced up at the camera as he listened, and Sergio detected a teasing glint in his brother’s eye as he nodded at Sergio’s instructions – speed up the printing of the money, and get any spare people to help Moscow dig the tunnel. Time was running out. “Understood,” Berlin said. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on your girlfriend for you.” He turned away with a smirk and Sergio shook his head. He deserved that after all the nonsense he had sprouted at Andres about love over the years. He knew now that he’d had no clue what he was talking about.

The others filtered out until only Raquel and Berlin were left, and she watched him warily. “So you believe me?” she asked, afraid of the answer, and he smiled. But it was a dangerous smile rather than a friendly one.  
“Oh, the jury’s still out. But what I do believe is that you care for my brother, and that he cares for you. That has bought you some time.” He lifted the gun and tapped her casually on the chest with the barrel. “It will all depend what you do with that time. I would advise you to use it wisely.” With that he sauntered out of the room, and she sagged down on a chair and buried her face in her hands as the adrenaline slowly drained out of her system. The phone rang once more and she reached for it blindly, like a drowning sailor reaching for a passing piece of driftwood, and let Sergio’s voice flow over her and keep her afloat.

_Two days later  
_ Things went smoothly for two more days. In that time the Professor continued to lead Prieto on a merry dance, making the Police chase shadows, and the gang doubled their efforts to print as much money as they could and to finish the tunnel. Tokyo still regarded Raquel with suspicion but Berlin was true to his word and kept her away from Raquel, and the others seemed to have been convinced by her willingness to provide the information the Professor required to stave off the imminent assault. Raquel caught Monica and Denver in a heated kiss and had a long talk with the woman, concerned that she was a victim of Stockholm syndrome. But Monica convinced her that it was real when she said, “No-one’s ever looked at me the way he does – with such devotion,” and Raquel was reminded of the look of pure adoration on Sergio’s face when they made love, and knew that this was something more between the two younger people. So when Monica indicated that she wanted to leave with Denver after the heist, Raquel backed them up.

But the Professor’s luck finally ran out. Early afternoon on the second day, a young female constable brought the latest over-time sheets to the tent, and after she delivered them she wandered over to the pin-up wall and regarded the photos and other information curiously. When her eye caught the identikit of the Professor Raquel had helped compile all those months ago, she smiled and said, “Huh.”  
Angel looked up. “What?”  
“Handsome bugger, the Professor, isn’t he?” she declared and he barely refrained from rolling his eyes.   
“If you say so.”  
“Oh definitely. He looks just like Antonio Banderas, with glasses.”

Angel froze, his heart in his mouth all of a sudden. He strode over and shoved past her to study the clean-shaven face from close-up. She was right. It was Antonio Banderas with a pair of glasses added. _Oh shit. Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck_.  
“Oh fuck,” he said out loud, and that caught Prieto’s attention.  
“Something wrong, Angel?”  
Angel whipped off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, but when he put them back on and looked once more, it was still Antonio Banderas. He stood there, unable to form any words, nothing in his world making sense anymore. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t fathom it. Raquel had betrayed him. Had betrayed all of them. Why? Why would she do that? But of course he knew why – they had treated her like shit, like a commodity, and had ignored her claims of abuse. They had forced her to remain undercover for longer than was psychologically healthy, and she had cracked. Turned. Raquel Murillo of all people. He saw Prieto frowning at him as though through a haze. When he finally managed to get the words out, his voice was hoarse, almost unrecognisable. He gestured at the identikit and said dumbly, “It’s Antonio Banderas.”  
To Prieto’s credit he grasped the implications much quicker than the policeman. He hurried over and stared at the identikit, and then he spat, “That fucking bitch!” After that things developed rather quickly. Prieto realised that the escape plan she had sold them was probably fake, so he ordered the geo-surveyers to trace the sounds of digging they had ignored thus far, assuming it to be a diversionary tactic by the thieves. It would take them less than an hour to plot the most likely exit point of the tunnel.

Sergio came out of the tunnel he was helping the Serbians dig from their side in time to hear the female Police officer call him handsome, and he frowned in confusion. She didn’t know what he looked like, so how could she-  
It hit him square in the chest. Raquel must have helped them draw up an identikit that first time he let her go home. But she’d sworn that she never told them who he was; had she lied about that? Had she lied about _everything_? No. He refused to believe that. And then the Police woman said he looked just like Antonio Banderas, and he realised what Raquel had done. Even then she had hedged her bets, had not given them anything that could help them to identify him. But he also understood immediately what it meant – it was over. The Security Forces would storm the Mint within the hour. He snatched up the phone and Berlin answered.  
“They’ve figured out that Lisbon defected,” he reported tersely. “Get everyone digging in the tunnel and wind up the printing. Get ready, Berlin. They’ll be coming within the hour.”  
“Understood.” Berlin went off to do the Professor’s bidding, and he rushed back to help dig once more. And thankfully, fifteen minutes later, they broke through.

There was no time for jubilation – they immediately started transferring the money to the warehouse and getting the hostages ready for the assault, positioning them where they were least likely to get injured, according to the Professor’s wishes. When the assault began twenty minutes later with the Security Forces blasting their way through the loading doors, they were just ferrying the last of the rolls of money to the warehouse. Berlin shouted for Lisbon and Nairobi to leave the hostages they had been guarding and to go. They could hear the shots drawing closer as Tokyo, Denver and Rio were forced to retreat.  
“Come on!” Berlin shouted. The others came sprinting around the corner and ducked straight into the vault and through the tunnel, but Raquel stopped and looked at Berlin. He was taking up position behind the sandbags they had placed in the corridor, preparing to hold off the soldiers.

Sergio paced the warehouse, listening anxiously to his comms as his crew came through the tunnel one by one and dashed off to get dressed. He heard a triumphant exclamation from the Police tent and knew they had sufficiently narrowed down the probable exit point of the tunnel to start with the house-to-house raids. They had only minutes before the police would knock on the warehouse door. Finally only Berlin and Lisbon was unaccounted for, and he urged over the comms, “Lisbon, Berlin, get out now!”  
Raquel moved towards the vault, but halted once she realised Berlin wasn’t following. “Berlin, come on!” A bullet smacked into the wall next to her and she ducked down. Sergio’s brother looked over at her and the look in his eyes scared her.  
“There isn’t enough time,” he said, and then all hell broke loose.  
Sergio froze as he listened to the rapid firing of automatic weapons, not knowing who was shooting or what was happening. “Raquel!” he shouted, abandoning her code-name in his terror, but there was no answer. The two people in the world he loved more than anything was out of reach, and there was nothing he could do to help them.

_tbc_


	11. Sacrifice

_It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

As the bullets began to fly Raquel dove behind the sandbags next to Berlin, who let loose with the Browning machine gun and drove them back. They worked like a well-oiled machine – he shooting and she reloading, until the soldiers withdrew around the corner. When there was a lull, she became aware of Sergio’s frantic voice in her ear. She looked at Berlin, knowing he was the only family the man she loved had left.  
“Berlin,” she said, “go. I’ll keep them at bay long enough for you to get out.”  
Sergio heard this and his heart stopped. “No. Raquel please – you both get out now-“  
“They’re right on our heels,” Berlin interrupted. “There’s no time.” He grinned, somewhat manic but also resolute as he looked at Raquel. “No. _You_ go. I’ll keep them back.”  
“No Andres, no. Please!”  
Raquel’s heart ached at the desperation in Sergio’s voice. “You’re all he has left,” she said simply to Berlin, and the smile dropped from his face. For once there was no smarminess, no arrogance, just kindness as he shook his head.  
“No. He has _you_ now.”  
“Andres-“  
“What have I got to look forward to? Months of decay and an ignominious death? No. That’s not for me. I prefer to go out on my own terms.” Raquel’s head dropped, but he wasn’t done. “Promise me you’ll look after him.”  
She lifted her head and looked him in the eye, solemn as the grave. “I will. I swear it.”  
He nodded, satisfied. “Then go. _Now_.”

She stared at him for a second more, moved beyond words, and then she went. As she dashed into the vault and lowered herself into the tunnel she heard the gunfire start up again and she ran, half-crouched, as fast as she could. Tears were streaming down her face but she didn’t notice. When she reached the other side willing hands drew her up and she saw Helsinki hold back a struggling Sergio. As soon as the Serb saw her he pressed the button and blew the tunnel and Sergio collapsed against him, weeping.  
Raquel immediately went over and took him from Helsinki, holding him as tightly as she could, whispering into his ear, “I’m sorry, darling. So sorry.”  
Nairobi hovered anxiously and pointed at her wrist, and Raquel nodded. There was no time – they had to get out of there. She pulled back and took Sergio’s face in both hands.  
“Professor. We have to go.”  
He looked at her with tear-filled eyes, forlorn, and pulled himself together with an effort. His back straightened as he wiped at his eyes and began to issue instructions. “Everyone get dressed and disperse as agreed. I’ll see you at the harbour. Hurry – we have an hour at most before they shut the city down.”

The others dashed off but Raquel remained, clutching his hand. She was not going with them on the boat. She and her family would take a different, more circuitous route, as the manhunt for the traitorous Police officer and her family was bound to be intense. They had argued about it long and hard but Raquel had insisted; she would not endanger the escape of the others. Sergio had capitulated – deep down he knew that she was right; it was much more difficult to hide a family of three whose faces were well-known to the authorities, than the others who could filter into places one by one or in pairs. He leant forward and rested his forehead against hers, suddenly weary beyond words. He was on the cusp of achieving something immense, something that would be talked about for years, and yet all he could think about was her. All that mattered was her and whether he would see her again. Her hand found his cheek and guided his mouth to hers, and they kissed desperately, hungrily, teeth clashing and tongues stroking. When they pulled apart she framed his face in both hands once more.  
“I’ll see you in Palawan, in a few months’ time.”  
He nodded. There were so many things he wanted to say but he didn’t know how, so instead he traced a thumb down her cheek and hoped that she could read his mind. “Go.”  
He watched her sprint out the door before he got into the truck next to Helsinki.  
“Let’s go,” he said, trying not to think about his brother as they drove out of the warehouse and down the street, passing the onrushing police cars on their way.  
They’d done it. They had bloody done it, and he couldn’t help but smile, despite his heartache.

_Police tent  
_ Prieto hovered anxiously as the raid on the warehouse began. His head was filled with vengeful thoughts of what he would do to that annoying Professor, not to mention the traitor Murillo, once they were caught. He gnashed his teeth in furious anticipation, impatiently staring at the screen over the tech’s head. Angel sat on a chair out of the way, still in shock. Raquel had lied to him, had used him to deceive the Police and bring about the downfall of Operation Midnight. It was unfathomable. _And what about how the Police lied to her, used her?_ _What about how_ you _failed_ her? His conscience would not let him forget that, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. He was vaguely aware of the raid beginning, of police radios crackling and orders being shouted and he tensed, to his surprise wishing that she would not be there. Whatever had happened between them, whatever he had hoped for and however she had dashed those dreams, he could never wish to see her in jail or shot dead. After everything she had suffered, she deserved better than that. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of confusing emotions, dreading the sound of gunfire that he knew was about to erupt. But instead there was only a frustrated roar from Prieto and his eyes flew open once more. The thieves were gone. The Colonel looked on the verge of a heart attack.  
“Someone go and check Murillo’s house!” he yelled, and Angel sprang to his feet.  
“I’ll go.”

_Murillo house  
_ To Raquel’s relief her mother had followed the instructions she had given her before they had entered the Mint. When she arrived at the house they were packed and ready, and Raquel hurriedly dumped the suitcases into the boot and urged them into the car. Paula seemed confused about what was happening, moaning that she wanted to say goodbye to her father before they left and Raquel had to practically drag her out of the house and into the car. It was as she straightened after strapping her daughter in that she saw the familiar BMW swing to the kerb in front of them, blocking off their escape. Adrenaline shot through her and she instinctively felt for her gun, but even as she did so she knew she could never shoot Angel. So this was it, then. This was how it ended. She wondered bleakly what would become of Paula; the thought of her going to live with Alberto almost made Raquel reconsider her conviction that she wouldn’t be able to shoot her former partner. Maybe she could prevail upon Angel to ensure that didn’t happen. “Stay in the car,” she ordered Marivi and her daughter, and walked over to the BMW.

He got out as she approached and they came to a halt a few metres apart, both knowing that after everything that had transpired the gulf between them was much bigger than that – that it was now as wide as an ocean.  
“You helped them to get away,” he said, and to his credit there was no accusation in his voice. Just sadness, and for a brief moment she felt guilt. They had worked side-by-side for fifteen years, doing their best to serve and protect, so she could understand his confusion at her betrayal. How could he know how blurred the line between good and bad had become, if he hadn’t experienced it first-hand like she had? She almost apologised, but in the end she repressed the urge to do so, knowing that if she got a chance to do it all over again, she wouldn’t change a thing. She would choose to save her daughter every time, and she would hope to fall in love every time as well; there really was nothing to apologise for as far as she was concerned. So she didn’t say anything; she simply watched him warily.  
“Why?” he asked once it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything.  
She snorted. “You have to ask?”  
He looked away. “No. I guess not.” He gathered himself. “Look, I can understand your anger, but to take it this far – to help this guy, this Professor, to hold innocent people hostage?” He shook his head. “That’s not you, Raquel. You’ve always had a sense of honour, a calling to help those who couldn’t help themselves-“  
“And that’s exactly why I did it,” she interrupted, losing patience. “I can no longer be part of a system that has become corrupted – where the authorities use their power to repress instead of to uplift; to advantage the rich and to hell with the poor. And I’ll have you know – the Professor has more honour than any of my former colleagues in the Police. He may be a thief, but he’s a good man. He offered to help me get Paula away from Alberto when no-one else would.”  
Angel tilted his head, surprised by the fervour with which she defended the criminal. Even through her anger her respect for the man was obvious. Or was it perhaps more than that? Jealousy coursed through him and before he could stop himself he demanded, “My God, are you actually _in love with him_?”

She was taken aback, so she didn’t respond at first, but then she thought: he deserved the truth. For the years of friendship, of having each other’s backs on the job. Before she realised it she was smiling. “I’ve never been so happy,” she confessed and his face crumpled. She was in love; it was written plain as day in the softness of her smile, in the shine of her eyes, and he realised she was right – he had certainly never seen her this happy. The Professor had managed what neither he nor Alberto could, and his resolve weakened. Did she not deserve this after all the shit she’d been through? This remarkable and brave woman - did she not deserve to be happy and in love? Could he live with himself if he denied her this chance? She was too proud to ask, but her whole body was quivering, begging him to let her go, and in the end he couldn’t find it within himself to deny her. She would never be his, would never love him like she loved this thief, and what would society possibly gain from throwing her in jail? He looked beyond her to Paula’s anxious face, and capitulated. He would not be the one to condemn Raquel’s daughter to a life of misery and violence. At that moment his phone trilled and he lifted it to his ear, his gaze once more coming to rest on Raquel.  
“Yes, Colonel,” he said and saw her shoulders slump in resignation. “I’m at Raquel’s house, but we’re too late. They’re gone.”  
Her eyes widened at the unexpected lie, and then hope flared in her eyes and a smile brighter than the sun blossomed. He disconnected in the middle of Prieto’s rant and smiled back at her wearily. “Go,” he said softly. “Go before I change my mind.”  
Tears gathered in her eyes as she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured, and he watched her walk away, hoping that one day he would be able to get over her and to love someone else like she so obviously loved the Professor. He lifted a hand in a half-wave as she drove past him, knowing that this was probably the last he would ever see of her. Once the car turned the corner and was gone he sighed from the depths of his soul and looked back at her house one final time. “Be happy, Raquel,” he said into the silence, before he got in his car and drove back to the Police tent, to his responsibilities.

_Four months later  
_ _Palawan  
_ Sergio wandered along the beach, wiggling his toes in the sand. Some days he was still amazed that he was here, that it had worked. They were all fabulously rich and would never have to work a day in their life again, should they choose not to. Over a billion Euros. A _billion_. His mind still boggled at the thought. He had arrived in Palawan about three weeks after the end of the heist and was already settling into life here in paradise, and he loved it. He had found the perfect house – on the beach and big enough to accommodate Raquel’s family, and he loved lying in bed and hearing the waves sigh just a few metres away, loved watching the spectacular sunsets, loved ambling around the local market and haggling about the prices. And yet, he wasn’t happy. Not really. Not yet. The loss of his brother had left a gaping hole in his heart and he was still struggling to come to terms with it. He wondered if he ever would; for so long it had only been the two of them. There was no other family and it was heart-breaking to know that he was now alone in the world, without anyone he was related to. It was strange how comforting it had always been to know that Andres was out there, blood of his blood, and that no matter how different they were there was this connection that bound them together. He had been certain of his brother’s love for him and had loved him back unquestioningly in return, and now that was gone. The one person who had always accepted him just as he was, with all his quirks and social ineptitude, was no longer there.

But then he remembered a pair of warm brown eyes, a smile that could light up a city, and golden hair tumbling over bare shoulders and he knew – he was _not_ alone in the world. Soon she would get here and then he would be part of something once more – part of a family. It was a heady thought. God, he missed her. His contacts had reported their safe extraction from Spain, across the border into Portugal, where they had holed up on a remote farm with an old farmer and his wife for three months, waiting for the furore to die down, for people to forget their faces. For in this age of social media and instant sensations, memories tended to be short. A few weeks ago they had boarded the fishing trawler that would bring them to Palawan; surely they should get here any day now. And that’s when he heard it, the rumble of a boat engine. He looked up to see one of the small local fishing boats heave alongside the wooden jetty not far from the house, and as he watched a small figure leapt over the rail and onto the jetty. Paula. It was them. They were here – _she_ was here. _Raquel_. He saw her come out on deck, holding Marivi’s arm, and he started running. By the time he reached the jetty they had disembarked, and Raquel looked up at the sound of his feet slapping against the wood. When she saw him her face lit up and the biggest smile he had ever seen spread across it, and she said, “Sergio,” on a sigh, his name a prayer on her lips. And then he was right in front of her, beaming like an idiot, staring at her, drinking her in, and all he could say was, “You’re here.” And she laughed and stepped forward, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.  
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” she declared before she lifted her face to his and kissed him.

**Epilogue**

_When love has fused and mingled two beings in a sacred and angelic unity, the secret of life has been discovered as far as they are concerned; they are no longer anything more than the two boundaries of the same destiny; they are no longer anything but the two wings of the same spirit. Love, soar.  
_ _Victor Hugo, Les Misėrables_

_Three months later  
_ Raquel couldn’t sleep. Beside her Sergio breathed deeply; for a change he had no such problems. This wasn’t one of those nights when the death of his brother haunted him, drove him out of bed and left him staring out to sea, plotting revenge. Or at least that was what she suspected; he never said anything. But this night it was her turn, although it wasn’t prompted by anything as maudlin as death – she simply wasn’t tired. Her life now was remarkably stress-free and that bone-aching weariness she had lived with for so many years had finally disappeared. She watched the ceiling fan lazily turning in the moonlight for a while, hoping it would lull her into slumber, but after a time she gave up. Careful not to wake her partner she slipped out of bed and made her way out onto the porch, settling in one of the big rattan chairs. She breathed deeply, relishing the tang of the ocean that pervaded the air, letting the sigh of the waves flow over her. The night was clear and a light breeze caressed her bare arms and legs, a welcome relief after the heat of the day. It was a perfect night and she burrowed into the soft cushions and simply enjoyed it. This was paradise, and she felt an overwhelming gratitude towards Sergio fill her heart. He had made this possible; he had taken a leap of faith to bring her here, trusting that she would not betray him. Her mother and daughter were happy and settled, and she was head-over-heels in love. By now she knew with an unshakable certainty that he was the love of her life; that even if something went wrong and this ended tomorrow, she would never love like this again. Sure, she might move on and fall in love once more, for she was a survivor at heart, but it would never again be with this intensity, this all-consuming desire for her partner. And strangely enough the realisation didn’t scare her at all. Instead it made her determined to enjoy this life, this time with Sergio to the fullest, for however long it would last.

There was a soft footfall behind her and Sergio’s voice drifted to her on the breeze. “Can’t sleep?”  
She detected a note of worry; even after three months of bliss he remained a tad insecure, waiting for her to change her mind about living with him, she suspected. But he need not fear – she had no intention of leaving. Ever. “Mmm. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” she responded and he padded over.  
“You didn’t. I guess I’ve become used to sharing the bed; my body now notices when that’s not the case.”  
That made her smile. “Yeah, me too.” She held out her hand to him. “Sit with me for a bit?”  
The worry left his eyes and he joined her. She threw her legs over his and nestled into his side. He slung an arm around her and her hand came to rest on his bare chest, her fingers toying with his chest hair and a nipple every now and then. She had quickly got him to ditch those silly pyjamas he favoured – they were way too hot for this climate anyway, and now he only wore light cotton pants, or more often than not nothing at all.  
“I was just contemplating my incredible luck – to be here with you,” she told him, wanting him to know how happy she was, to banish his insecurities for good. His teeth glinted in the moonlight and she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, then dipped her head and licked his nipple. A shudder went through him and she grinned and did it again. He began to stir against her thigh and she felt the heat gather between her legs. She was forty years old – they both were, and yet they could turn each other on with one touch, one look, one word. It was intoxicating; to desire someone so intensely and to know it was reciprocated with the same force. His hand burrowed under her shirt and hot fingers trailed up her spine, and she closed her lips around the now hardened bud and sucked, hoping he would soon be doing the same to her. He inhaled sharply and shifted his hips, and she felt his erection now insistently pressing against her leg.  
“Do you want to take this to the bedroom?” he checked, voice already hoarse with arousal, but she shook her head and swirled her tongue over him one more time. Her hair tickled his stomach just above the waistband of his pants and he twitched against her, beginning to strain against the barrier of his clothes. He was achingly hard for her now and the first wetness of her own arousal began to seep from her.  
She straightened and looked at him, eyes blazing with lust. “No, I want to have you right here.”

It was the early morning hours and no-one was likely to happen upon them in a compromising position, so he quickly capitulated. He pulled her shirt over her head and latched onto a breast, returning the favour just as she had hoped. Her hand tangled in his hair, holding his head there as her own tipped back and she pushed herself into his hot mouth, eager for more. She couldn’t get enough, and when he slipped a hand into her underwear and cupped her she unashamedly rubbed herself against him, seeking more stimulation. He got the message and stuck first one, then two fingers inside her, curling them to find the rough spot on her wall, and a soft “Ah!” escaped her. He sucked at her in time with the thrusting of his fingers, and she got one knee under her to get more leverage to grind against his hand. Her head tipped forward and she pressed her forehead against the top of his head, her panting breath ruffling his hair.  
“I’m- Oh! Almost- fuck Sergio, _more_ -“ She was becoming incoherent with the pleasure of it, and he obeyed her every command. He cocked his wrist to bury his fingers as deep as possible and sucked hard at her nipple, and she came with a rush, her arousal running down his fingers, filling the air with the scent of sex and for him, love.

She clutched him to her, still gasping into his hair and undulating against his hand with the aftershocks, and he felt proud and overcome that he could do this for her. He had never been in love before, and every time she gave herself over to him with such abandon it blew his mind. He kissed his way up her chest and neck until he found her mouth, and she smiled as her tongue flickered out against his lips. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and perhaps it was time he told her.  
“Raquel,” he breathed, kissing the corner of her mouth, “I’m so glad my brother dragged you onto my heist.” Damn it, that was not what he’d meant to say at all – why was he finding it so hard?  
She must have sensed his frustration, because she pulled back to look him in the eye. “Me too,” she murmured, caressing his face, letting all the love she felt for him shine through her gaze, and he found his courage.  
“Everything is better because you’re with me, Raquel.” He cradled her head in both hands, feeling the silk of her hair against his skin. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I’m in love for the first time in my life.”

Tears gathered in her eyes as she stared at him, into his soul, touched to hear him say it out loud. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, and then added tenderly, “darling,” before kissing him. It began as a gentle caress of lips, but it soon spiralled out of control as their passion for each other and the momentousness of the occasion overwhelmed them. Raquel swung her leg over to straddle him as they kissed and kissed, and his hands roamed over her back and through her hair before settling on her butt and pressing her against his erection. They grinded against each other until they couldn’t bear it anymore, and then she slid off him and down to the floor to pull his pants off. His cock reared up eagerly as soon as it was released and she couldn’t resist, taking him into her mouth. He groaned in pleasure, hooking her hair out of the way so that he could watch, enthralled, but he only allowed her a few sucks before he gently tugged on her head, letting her know that he would rather be inside her this time. She stood and peeled off her underwear, and his heated gaze ran over every inch of her gorgeous body, lingering on her breasts and the glistening triangle between her legs. She was a goddess, and she was offering herself to him for the rest of their lives. He was the luckiest man in the world.

Raquel straddled him once more and his hand joined hers to position him at her entrance and she sank down, both of them forgetting to breathe until he was buried to the hilt inside her. They exhaled together at the pure bliss of it, and she looked down at him with the hint of a smile and so much love that he was almost moved to tears. He held her, supporting her back and toying with her hair as they began to move together, gently at first. Her gaze never left his and he barely dared to blink, not wanting to miss a single second of looking at her. She was so wet and tight around him and he wished he could be joined with her like this for hours, but eventually she began to speed up, grabbing the glasses off his face and clasping the back of his neck for more leverage as she rode him without restraint, and he met her stroke for stroke. Her nipples rubbed against his chest as she bounced on his lap and he was bewitched; driven wild by her expression of pure hunger for him. Sweat pooled between their bodies as they strained together, searching for their release, and it was frantic and unfettered and possibly the best sex he’d ever had, because they were both present and open and in love. This was not a mere fuck; this was making love. And when they reached orgasm together and the stars exploded in his brain, all he could think was: _together_ , for the rest of their lives.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Be responsible - maintain social distancing as far as humanly possible! Stay home and read fanfiction. 😁


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